


firedamp

by ThoroughlyModernEnough



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: A Katniss and Peeta as mentors story from the tribute's POV, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, For the most part, Gen, Madge POV, Minor Gale Hawthorne/Madge Undersee, Minor Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:13:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 27
Words: 55,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThoroughlyModernEnough/pseuds/ThoroughlyModernEnough
Summary: Katniss and Peeta won the 73rd Games instead of the 74th. With a year between their games and the Quarter Quell, they have to mentor the next tributes from District 12.Madge Undersee has always kept her head down and stayed out of trouble, but when she is reaped she must adapt a new strategy in order to survive.
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 73





	1. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter One

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reaping Day is never a good day for District 12.

* * *

****

####  **Base (definition):**

**1\. (noun) the lowest part or edge of something, especially the part on which it rests or is supported.**  
**2\. (verb) have as the foundation for (something); use as a point from which (something) can develop.**

* * *

One of the first things I remember in my life is my father sitting me down and telling me that I was in danger. He told me that he would do everything he could to make sure I was safe but that there was only so much he could do. The rest was up to me.

“Madge, my girl, you are so smart,” Papa would tell me. “But fear is your enemy. Fear can make you second guess yourself. Fear can make you do dumb things.”

At this point, he would grasp my hands in his strong, warm ones. He would look me in the eyes and say, “So if I can give you any advice in this world, this is it. When you need to make a decision, think it through, survey every possible outcome. But once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it.”

My Papa would tell me this the night before Reaping Day, even when I was too young to participate in the Hunger Games. He wanted these words to stick with me. 

So he repeated them yesterday, sitting me down after supper for a talk. I always listen to him, even if his words are always so similar year after year. I listen because his tone is so insistent, like he needs me to understand this.

This morning, my father will already be in the Justice Building setting up for the Reaping later today. The house is mostly quiet, with an empty feeling. My mother is bustling quietly in my parent’s room, humming nervously to herself. She pops her head out once to ask if I have picked up our laundry yet. I tell her I will head out to grab it. I pull on a cardigan and set off towards the Seam. 

I pass through the District 12 town square. The square is bustling as cameras are being set up for the reaping later today. Times have been tough for District 12. In the past few months there has been an influx of new Peacekeepers and harsher patrols. The worst incident was last winter, when Gale Hawthorne was publicly whipped. Luckily, the Peacekeepers have calmed down some recently. Papa thinks they believe that the Games will keep people in line for a few months. It’s a fair assumption, nothing quiets the district like Reaping Day. 

As I walk to the Hawthorne’s home in the Seam, I feel people’s eyes on me. I really do not understand people sometimes. You think that people would be used to me by now, but no.

When last year’s Hunger Games first began, I usually watched it in the square with my father. The Everdeens and the Hawthornes were usually there too. Gale and Prim knew that I was friends with both Katniss and Peeta and soon we became a mutual support system. 

Eventually, they started inviting me to watch with them in the Seam. It would be a potluck dinner between Mrs. Everdeen and Mrs. Hawthorne and I would insist on bringing food. I always had to carefully measure the food to find the right amount to be helpful without it seeming like charity. 

Pretty soon I felt as comfortable with the Hawthorne’s and Everdeen’s as I did with my own family. Actually, it was more comforting. There is something very calming about watching with people who are feeling the same things as you. My mother cannot stand watching for too long and my father is required to stay in the square most nights. But with these people, I felt strangely reassured. 

As I round the corner to Hawthorne’s home, I spot Hazelle Hawthorne sitting on her front stoop, scrubbing something in a basin. Her daughter Posy is playing in the yard.

“Good morning, Mrs. Hawthorne,” I call out, trying to sound upbeat. 

“Madge,” Hazelle says with a smile as I join her on the stoop. “What have I said about calling me Hazelle?”

“I’m sorry. Old habit.” 

“Madge!” 

I follow the sound to little Posy Hawthorne, who runs up to me and hugs my leg. I chuckle and pat her head.

“Hello there, Posy. How are you?”

“Good!” Posy gives me a toothy grin. 

Posy is wearing one of my old dresses. I insisted on passing some of my old clothes on to her and Prim. Hazelle eventually accepted since Posy only had one outfit that was actual girl clothes, mainly wearing her brothers’ hand-me-downs. Mrs. Everdeen had been harder to convince but Prim’s eyes lit up when she saw the clothes and her mother just couldn’t refuse her. 

Hazelle wipes her hands on an old rag. “How’re you feeling, honey?”

I shrug. “All right. You know how it is.”

Hazelle nods. This year, sadly, is the most calm she has been on a Reaping Day in years. With Gale and his large amounts of tesserae finally through the system, she only has to worry about Rory this year. Of course she has years of worrying ahead of her, but it is a small relief for now. 

“Ma!” There’s a shout from within the house. “Mama!”

“Yeah? What?” Hazelle asks as Vick runs outside. 

Vick freezes at the sight of me. I wave hello but he just stares back at me as his cheeks flush. 

Hazelle snaps her fingers impatiently. “Vick! What is it?”

Vick startles, looking back to his mother. “Rory’s stealing from your wash.”

Hazelle’s eyes narrow angrily. “Rory!”

“Tattletale.” Rory Hawthorne stomps out of the house, glaring bitterly at his brother.

Hazelle stands up, putting her hands on her hips. “What have I told you-”

“I just took a shirt!”

“It’s not your shirt, Rory.”

“I was just gonna borrow it!”

“Well, what if you get reaped today? How’re you gonna return it if you’re in the Capitol?” 

Hazelle stops and looks down at the ground, holding back a sob. There is a horrible silence, as Rory looks ashamed. Vick, Posy, and I look back and forth between the two. I awkwardly glance down at Posy, who is still clinging to me.

“I…” Rory pauses, “I’m sorry, Ma. I didn’t mean-”

Hazelle cuts him off by hugging him fiercely. “Just hush up and put the shirt back.”

Rory nods but hesitates. “I tore my reaping shirt.”

Hazelle sighs. “Go ask Gale if you can borrow.”

“All of his clothes are too big.”

“Go ask.”

Rory groans and goes back into the house. 

Hazelle gives me an embarrassed grimace. “Sorry about all that.”

I wave her off. “It’s fine, Hazelle. Everyone is jittery today.”

Hazelle exhales wearily. “Ain’t that the truth.” 

I feel a set of eyes on me. Vick is staring at me again.

“Hello Vick,” I say, kneeling next to him and Posy. Posy immediately crawls onto my back and starts playing with my hair. 

“How are you?” I ask Vick. He just gulps, shakes his head and darts back into the house. 

I look at Hazelle, who snorts. “My little heartbreaker.” 

“Hey Ma?” Another voice calls from the house, “Why is Rory rummaging through my clothes?”

“Rory needs a good shirt, Gale, just give him one of yours.” Hazelle answers as Gale exits the house. He stops short at the sight of me kneeling on his front stoop, his little sister pulling on random locks of my hair.

During the Games, Hazelle claimed Gale was too worried about Katniss to be friendly but I knew that wasn’t true. It has never been a secret that Gale doesn’t like me. 

I was never too fond of Gale either but watching him get whipped in the town square was one of the worst things I have ever seen outside of watching the Hunger Games. I brought him and Katniss some of my mother’s morphling medicine to try and help him recover. Since then, Gale has mostly just tried to avoid me. It is almost as if he feels like he is in my debt and is upset about it. 

Rory rushes outside after Gale. “It’s just for today Gale, I swear.” Rory spots me and beams. “Hey Madge! I didn’t know you were here.”

“Just picking up my laundry,” I tell him, deciding not to mention me witnessing his fight earlier. 

“Yes, your laundry. I’ll go grab that for you!” Hazelle hurries back into the house.

Gale sighs wearily and asks Rory, “Why do you need a shirt? What happened to your clothes?”

“I tore it.”

“Seriously? You destroy all your stuff.”

“It’s just a hole! We can fix it, easy.” 

Gale is starting to look annoyed and Rory looks panicked. I butt in, asking him teasingly, “Oh, do you need to borrow some clothes, Rory? I have a dress you would look absolutely lovely in.” 

Rory sticks his tongue out at me, which I playfully return. 

I adore Rory; he has always made me feel welcome. While Gale has never liked me much and Vick is always too shy to speak to me, Rory and Posy have been the most open to me. But Posy likes everyone. Rory has always made me feel like he genuinely likes me. 

Posy starts pouting that my dresses are her’s and not Rory’s, which makes me laugh. Gale just watches us stoically. I remember Gale’s annoyance when I first offered the clothes to Hazelle, how he claimed they weren’t going to accept my “charity”. I suppose he doesn’t appreciate this reminder.

Hazelle comes back out, two laundry sacks over her shoulder. She hands me one and Gale the other. 

“Gale, can you drop this off at Haymitch Abernathy’s house? He hasn’t picked it up but I think he might need it before the reaping.” 

“Yeah, sure. I need to pick up some stuff from Katniss, anyway.” Gale hoists the bag over his shoulder and nudges Rory. “Come on, kid. I need your help carrying some stuff back here.”

“But I wanna tell Madge about what we found in the creek the other day!” Rory pouts. “Can’t you go later?”

“Rory, stop it.” Gale nudges him again. “Let’s go.”

“But, Gale!”

“It’s okay,” I cut in. “I can go with you. I’m headed that direction anyway.”

Rory beams at me. Over his shoulder, Gale tries and fails to hide his grimace.


	2. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge makes a stop at Victor's Village and meets with some old friends.

Gale, Rory, and I walk through the Seam together. Rory excitedly tells a story about him and Vick going to the creek the other day. Like most of Rory’s anecdotes, he spends way too long on the set up and keeps getting sidetracked by little details. He hops around between me and Gale and by the time we reach the town square he is almost out of breath.

Over Rory’s head, I catch Gale’s eye and stifle a laugh. Gale rolls his eyes at his brother, but I can see the ghost of a smile on his lips. 

This is probably the longest time I have spent with Gale since his whipping. As we pass through the town square, I wonder if he is thinking about it too-if this place is a continual reminder of that horrible day for him. 

As we come upon the pristine houses in Victor’s Village, Gale tells Rory to settle down so they can get their errands done quickly. I notice Peeta Mellark gardening in front of his house. I tell the boys I’m going to say hello to him. Gale throws me a quick goodbye before walking on, pulling Rory along with him. Rory shouts bye to me over his shoulder, waving vigorously.

I walk over to Peeta’s yard.

“Hello Peeta,” I greet, setting my laundry bag down. 

“Madge,” Peeta smiles at me as he grabs at the wall to help himself stand up. He wobbles on his artificial leg. I reach out a hand to support him but he waves me away. I sigh but step back from him. 

“Can’t you at least use your cane?”

“No need,” Peeta says with forced cheer. “I’m already up.”

Peeta has been extremely stubborn about not accepting any help. I can understand not wanting other’s assistance but his cane? The whole thing drives me crazy. 

“He just feels the need to prove himself.” Hazelle had said when I complained to her about it. We had been sitting at her table and I had been helping her fold laundry.

“Why?” I had asked.

“Well, surely you’ve heard all those people talking about how he didn’t deserve to win.”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah,” Hazelle had nodded. “People out there saying he just rode Katniss’ coattails." 

“That is ridiculous!” I said, flushing in anger. “He saved her life too. He lost his leg out there.” 

“You don’t need to convince me.” Hazelle said. “He shouldn’t be paying those people no mind. None of them have got a clue what being in the Games is like.”

I did not mention to her that him and Katniss’ alliance was a lot more mutually beneficial than people gave them credit for. Katniss had filled me in on her relationship with Peeta, about how they had played up their romance for the cameras. But there were still things between them I could only guess at. 

Their relationship had been so cold once they returned home, almost as if they hated each other. Yet they had slipped so easily back into their roles throughout their Victory Tour. Apparently, there were even discussions of a proposal but Peeta had refused. They were still teenagers, after all. Nevertheless, they were planning getting engaged down the line. They spoke of all this like a business transaction and it seemed as if there was nothing between them. Then one of them would say something or they would share a look and it was hard to believe they had ever faked anything.

Now, Peeta has steadied himself and stands proudly. I roll my eyes at him, but he knows I’m not serious.

“What are you doing, digging around in the dirt on Reaping Day?”

“I just wanted to get some things done before I have to leave today.” 

In just a few hours, Peeta will be setting off for the Capitol with the next two tributes. From now on, Peeta and Katniss will be mentors in the Games. It’s weird to think of the two of them as mentors. Then again, it is weird to think of them as Victors. I think Katniss and Peeta have had a hard time adjusting to that too. 

This past year, the two have found themselves in the odd position of being privileged in a poor community. Survival in District 12 demands all your time and both have had to adapt to the ennui of not having to worry every moment about living until the next day. 

I understand the way they feel. At least they have a purpose as Victors. All I have to look forward to is my final year of school. Last year had been lonely without Katniss and now I face another year by myself. 

I inwardly scold myself. I know I am being unappreciative; I’m lucky I have the chance to finish school. A lot of kids in District 12 don’t complete their final year. Most drop out once they turn eighteen so they can look for work. 

But there is another issue. I have no clue what I should do once school is over. Papa has always pushed for me to get a job and work. It was like his speech to me; he said I needed to become self-sufficient. He was always adamant that I could take care of myself and my mother. Sometimes, I wonder what he sees as the Mayor. I think he worries about making the wrong move and having to face the Capitol’s wrath. 

I ask Peeta about his paintings. His eyes light up in excitement as he starts describing his latest completed work. He tells me about some people he met in the Capitol on his Victory Tour who had expressed interest in buying pieces. 

We are interrupted by a loud bang from a front door, as Haymitch Abernathy staggers out of his house. He starts to yell out something to Peeta but halts when he sees me next to him, his eyes widening. 

“Hello,” I greet, nodding my head in his direction. 

Haymitch mutters something unintelligible before shuffling back into his house. Peeta sighs, staring after him. “Don’t mind him. The Games are a tough time for him.”

“How about you?” I ask. Peeta looks confused so I elaborate. “Is this tough for you? First year as a mentor and all that.” 

“Haymitch is basically going to mentor us on how to mentor.” Peeta shrugs. “One can only guess how that will go.” 

I laugh, brushing my hair out of my face. “Is there a lot to teach?”

“According to Effie there is,” Peeta says with a smile. “But, I don’t really know. It’s just weird this time because after this we will have to prepare for the Quarter Quell. Who can guess what twist they will pull out for that year.” 

Right. The Quarter Quell is next year’s game. The last Quarter Quell was when my Aunt Maysilee was reaped. My mother always gets so upset this time of year when she is reminded of her sister’s death. The next Games will be even more difficult. I wonder if that is part of why Haymitch is having a rough time. 

“How is Katniss doing?” I ask.

Peeta shrugs again. “Who can tell? She’s mostly distracted. She’s been comforting Prim.”

“Oh, is Prim all right?”

“She’s just nervous about the reaping.”

“Oh, right, of course.”

“Believe me, I get it,” Peeta murmurs. “That feeling when your name gets called...I know I’ll never forget it.” Peeta gets a far off look in his eye as he gazes out into the district. 

“To be honest, I never thought I would see another Reaping Day.”

I give Peeta a sympathetic look. There had been so many moments last year when I had been certain I was about to watch Peeta die. Nothing compared to the climatic moment between him and Katniss, when she offered him those berries. 

I had been in the town square that day with most of the district. Prim and Mrs. Everdeen had been holding each other, their faces white with fear. I had been with the Hawthornes and had grabbed their hands to keep myself grounded, not even noticing whose hands I was holding. My heart stopped when they put the berries in their mouths, some people in the square cried out in horror. 

When the announcement broke that the two had won together, the district erupted in celebration. I realized I was still clutching hands. On one side of me was Rory, who dropped my hand so he could triumphantly raise his fists in the air. On the other side was Gale. He was still staring at the screen, frozen in disbelief. 

I squeezed Gale’s hand gently, which shook him out of his stupor. He blinked at me and I smiled and for a moment we just stood there in mutual relief. Then I hugged him tightly and I even felt him hug me back before we were swept up by the crowd. Everyone had been so happy that day.

Yet here we are, another Reaping Day. 

I realize I need to get back to my house. I wish Peeta good luck for the Games. He still seems distracted, as if memories are playing in his mind. 

I hoist my laundry bag back over my shoulder and say goodbye to Peeta. As I set out towards my house, I feel as if someone is watching me. I look back just in time to see Haymitch closing the curtain in his window.


	3. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the Reaping.

Once I return home, I can’t avoid the day any longer. I clean myself up. My mother is wide-awake today and prepares me a bath with herbs and oils. We only use items like this on special occasions and the reaping is surely that. 

Once I’m thoroughly washed, I slip on a lilac dress, a gift from my last birthday. My mother towel dries my hair for me, the two of us soaking in one another’s presence. Finally, she brushes out my blond hair, before pulling it back into a half up-do. She ties the hair back with a white ribbon, the rest hanging loose. 

My mother and I head out to the square together, not separating until the last possible moment. She gives me a quick kiss before standing off to the side with the other parents. 

I check in and join the other girls. I find myself standing next to Delly Cartwright in the crowd. Delly, usually so cheerful, is somber as she greets me, smiling sweetly at me when I greet her. 

I spot my father sitting up on stage. Effie Trinket is posed beside him, wearing turquoise this year. The Victors, Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch, sit off to the side, their faces stoic. 

Then it’s two o’clock and time to begin. My father steps up and does the usual rigamarole of reading the story of Panem, the rebellion, and the Hunger Games. He introduces our Victors, earning applause from the crowd.

Then my father introduces Effie Trinket, who springs up cheerfully, and she announces her excitement for the 74th Annual Hunger Games. For the first time she sounds genuinely proud to be escorting District 12. What a difference a year can make. 

“Ladies first!”

I inwardly groan as Effie totters over to the girl’s bowl. She plucks a slip of paper from the bowl.

All of a sudden, a strange shiver overtakes my body. I know exactly what is going to happen. 

Sure enough, Effie Trinket blithely calls out my worst fear.

“Margaret Undersee.”

It’s all I can do not to vomit right there. 

The crowd around me parts, clearing my path. I suck up my nerves and carefully walk up to the stage. Effie excitedly waves me up. My father’s face has gone white, looking horrified. 

Effie faces the audience and asks for volunteers. No response. The crowd is in shock. The Mayor’s daughter in the Games?

“Boy’s turn!” Effie calls out. 

Effie goes to the other bowl and pulls out the next name. 

“Rory Hawthorne.”

I feel faint. The stage spins underneath me and I breathe shakily. This is worse than my name being called. I place a hand on my chest and stare forward intently, holding my tears back. I peer out into the crowd, wondering if I can spot Hazelle or Gale. 

Haymitch is whispering something to Katniss as Rory climbs on stage. Effie asks for a volunteer. There are none. None of Rory’s siblings are of age to take his place. Rory takes his spot next to me, Gale’s too-big shirt making him appear much smaller than he is. 

Just this morning he and I had walked through this square, chatting about nothing. I had barely listened to the story he told me, so unaware that it was going to be one of our last moments together. 

My father’s hands are trembling as he reads the Treaty of Treason, somehow making it through the whole thing. I’m proud of how strong he is. When I shake hands with Rory he looks so young it almost physically guts me. 

As Rory and I are ushered off the stage, I notice Katniss stomping across the stage towards one of the bowls. A Peacekeeper steps in front of her but I’m pushed along before I can see what else happens.

At the Justice Building, I feel so strange. Only a year ago I was here saying goodbye to Katniss and Peeta. Now I am in their shoes.

My parents are the first to come in.

I walk over to the two of them and hug them, whispering, “I love you”.

They both respond in kind and return my hug, tears in their eyes. I can’t help it and I start to cry too. My mother backs away, starting to protest. My father attempts to calm her but she shakes him off.

“I can’t!” She wails, “I can’t go through this again.”

My heart sinks. Of course. My Aunt Maysilee. My mother already went through the pain of losing a sister, now she has to watch her daughter in the Games too. 

“Mama,” I say, grabbing her hands. “Mama, please, be strong. Please.” 

“Oh!” My mother moans, “Thank goodness there’s another mentor this year. You won’t have to be mentored by that oaf, Haymitch!”

I’m surprised, both at my mother’s vitriol and by her ire being directed at Haymitch of all people. 

“What’s wrong with Haymitch?” I ask. Sometimes Papa gets annoyed by his drunken behavior but otherwise I have never noticed any animosity between him and my parents. 

But my mother is shaking too hard to listen to me, and she raises a hand to her head, a headache coming on. My father rubs her back soothingly. I can’t help but feel frustrated with my mother’s headaches again. How much of our lives have been devoted to caring for her through them? 

I instantly feel ashamed of myself. I shouldn’t be upset with my mother, especially in what will be my last moments with her. I know her headaches are from the grief and depression from losing her sister, Maysilee.

Dread fills me. I don’t know how she will handle my loss. 

I hug my mother, letting her rest her head on my shoulder, her tears silent now. She steps aside, her head in her hands. I turn to hug my father again.

“Madge,” Papa whispers, clutching me to his chest one last time. “Madge, remember what I told you.”

His words echo in my mind. _Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

“Madge, my girl, you can handle this,” Papa says as he lets me go, a guard opening the door indicating their time is up, “Madge, you can do anything.” 

With that my parents are ushered away. 

My next guests are Prim and Mrs. Everdeen. Prim wraps her arms around my stomach and hugs me tightly, tears silently pouring down her face. Mrs. Everdeen hangs back, her face conflicted.

“Are you okay?” Prim asks, her voice wobbly. 

I force myself to smile. “Yes. Yes, of course I am. It’s just the Hunger Games. I’ll be fine.” 

They both know I’m lying but don’t say anything. Prim hugs me again. Mrs. Everdeen gives my hand a comforting squeeze. I whisper, “Thank you.”

All too soon their time is up and the two are shuffled out. Mrs. Everdeen pauses and turns to face me again.

“You…” Mrs. Everdeen meets my eyes and I realize I have never really made eye contact with her before. “You look so much like your aunt, you know. Maysilee. She was really special.”

“Thank you,” I say, surprised. Mrs. Everdeen nods, a strange glint in her eye. And with that, they leave.

Hazelle is my next guest. She is carrying Posy on her hip with Vick trailing behind her. 

Posy scampers down her mother and gives me a hug. I eagerly return it. Hazelle hugs me next, smoothing down my hair.

“Listen, Madge,” Hazelle says, “I-I mean we-we know…if…”

I nod my head, “No. I mean, I understand.”

Tears brim Hazelle’s eyes and I feel so horrible for her. I look over at Posy and Vick, who look so lost. We don’t have much to say to each other besides goodbye. 

Hazelle and Posy each hug me one last time. Vick looks hesitant to hug me so I hold out my hands and ask him for one. He immediately falls into my arms, squeezing me tight. I ruffle his hair fondly as the Peacekeepers announce they need to leave. 

Gale comes to see me next. I’m surprised. I try to wipe my tears but he’s already seen them.

“Hey,” he says, sitting next to me.

“Hello.”

There is an awkward pause. 

“I just saw your family,” I say.

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you alone.” Gale shifts in his seat, uncomfortable. “I just…I talk better on my own.”

I can’t help but smile at that because…well, he’s not really talking, is he?

Gale seems to pick up on this a moment after I do. He smirks briefly before continuing.

“I want you to know that-that whatever happens in the arena, it’s all right. If Rory…” Gale trails off. “If something happens, don’t feel guilty. Just try your best.”

I’m shocked at how kind Gale is being. “That is…thank you, Gale.”

Gale nods curtly. “I’ve got something. For you, I mean.” He holds his hand out and opens his palm to reveal two strawberries. I take them gratefully and give him a genuine smile. He then reaches over and takes my hand. He meets my eyes and a moment of peace settles between us. 

The Peacekeeper comes to escort him out. Gale stands up and begins to exit.

“Wait,” I exclaim, standing up. “Wait!”

Gale pauses and without thinking I reach up on my tiptoes and kiss his cheek. Gale looks stunned and for a moment we just stare at one another before the Peacekeeper forces him out. 

I look down at the strawberries and sigh, wiping my last tears away. Gale is probably confused out of his mind. I can’t really explain why I did that. I guess I wanted something for him to remember me by before I leave.

Because I’ve listened to my father’s words. I have made a decision and I am going to do it with no hesitation. I have decided that I am not coming home. I am going to do everything I can to make sure that Rory Hawthorne wins and comes home to his family.


	4. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone is on edge as they board the train to the Capitol.

Effie Trinket escorts Rory and me to the train. We pose for a few cameras before boarding. Rory looks shell-shocked. I suspect I look similar. I feel as if I am walking around in a daze. 

Katniss, Peeta and Haymitch are already on board. Katniss is looking at the two of us with a tense expression. Then she walks up and hugs Rory. Then she turns and gives me one. My hug is shorter but tighter. 

When Katniss is finished, she reaches into her pocket. “I think this belongs to you now.” Katniss pulls out her fist and opens it to reveal the Mockingjay pin.

“Katniss, I can’t.”

“It’s yours anyway. You should have it back. It’s your token.” Katniss’ tone leaves no room for argument as she forces the pin into my hand. I relent, pinning it to my dress. 

I feel a pair of eyes on me and I look up to see Haymitch looking at me with an unreadable expression. When I catch his eyes he looks away and down at his feet. 

Effie claps. “Well! How about you two make yourselves at home? Your rooms are just down that hallway there.”

Rory and I are barely out of the room before we hear the four begin a terse, whispered argument. We walk down the hall in silence. Neither of us feels like talking anyway.

As I enter my room, everything finally overwhelms me. I collapse on the bed and begin crying heavily. I curl up into a ball and bury my face into a pillow to muffle the sounds of my sobs. Twenty minutes pass before my tears calm down. 

I just lie there silently for another ten minutes, my mind racing. I think of that picture of my Aunt Maysilee that sits on a small end table in the upstairs hallway. It is the only picture I have ever seen of her. I only know it's her in the photo because she stands beside my teenaged mother with matching smiles on their faces. I wonder if that will be my fate after these Games-just a picture in a hardly used hallway. 

I eat one of the strawberries Gale gave me to pass time. I set the other on my bedside table. I get up and stretch. I wash my face and try and fail to erase any evidence of crying. I check the drawers in the bathroom and find a hairbrush so I let my hair down. I am brushing it slowly just as I am called to dinner.

I enter the dining car and find Effie, Rory and Haymitch already seated at the table. I sit down between Rory and Haymitch, sweeping my hair back from my face. There’s a sharp clang and I startle just in time to see Haymitch grab at his dropped fork. He’s staring at my hair. I quickly drop my hands and clasp them in my lap, embarrassed. 

“Um, Miss Trinket,” Rory asks, holding up his drink. “What is this?”

Effie smiles at him indulgently. “Why that is lemonade, young man.”

Rory hesitantly takes a sip. He does a double take. Effie chortles in delight.

“It’s so sweet!” Rory takes another gulp. I grin at him, trying to pretend I haven’t noticed Haymitch is still looking at me. 

Katniss and Peeta enter and sit down across the table huffily. Katniss looks irritated and something feels strained between them. The attendants serve us plates overflowing with food. Rory seems unsure of what to do when he sees it. He snatches a plate of chicken and scoots it across the table, serving himself. 

Effie smiles hesitantly, all too aware of the awkward atmosphere. She tries to carry along some conversation throughout dinner but nothing develops. I try to be polite but my mind is too distracted from everything that has happened today. Mostly, Rory keeps asking what certain dishes are and he tries almost everything on the table. 

“Well,” Effie chirps, flicking imaginary fuzz off her sleeve. “How about we watch the recaps?”

We all settle down around a large television. Rory sits beside me with a perturbed look on his face. I reach over and squeeze his hand affectionately. He rolls his eyes but he is grinning. I smile back and let go of his hand.

District 1 kicks everything off. There is a large, terrifying looking boy with a buzz cut. He would be handsome if not for the bloodthirsty look on his face and his overly broad shoulders, which are disproportionate to the rest of his body. The girl is about a foot shorter than him, with wispy light blond hair. 

District 2 has two 18-year-olds. Typical.

District 4 has a chilling girl with almost as many muscles as the District 1 boy. The boy tribute is less intimidating but equally confident. 

None of the other tributes are particularly memorable. There is a 12-year-old girl from District 6 and an extremely tall boy from District 7.

There is some controversy in District 10 once the boy's name is called. The announcers reveal that the tributes are cousins and the odds are not in that family’s favor. I feel so bad for them as they shake hands. They even look alike, standing at similar heights with small, round faces and thick strawberry blond hair.

Then they show District 12 and there is Rory and me. The announcers recognize both of us from the coverage District 12 received last year when Katniss and Peeta were finalists in the Games. They comment on how interesting it will be to see how the two will handle mentoring a “cousin” and a mutual friend for their first Games. Then the anthem plays and Haymitch shuts the TV off. 

Not long after, Rory gets a stomach ache from all of the decadent Capitol food he has been eating. Peeta takes care of him, finding him some medicine and a cup of chamomile tea. I drink a cup alongside Rory, even though my stomach feels fine. I just don't want Rory to feel singled out here. By the time Rory feels better, the others have gone to bed. 

At night, I toss and turn in my bed. Despite it being the softest, most luxurious bed I have ever known, I cannot make myself comfortable. I ate Gale’s second strawberry before bed and now I wish I had it back, just for something to keep me occupied. 

Suddenly, I am startled by a loud bang. I push out of bed in alarm. I creep out of my room and peer down the hall. There is light coming from the dining car and I can vaguely make out voices. 

I shuffle down the hall and can make out Katniss’ muffled voice. A male voice responds-I think it is Haymitch. Whatever he says makes Katniss groan in exasperation as I reach the end of the hall. 

“That’s not what I meant and you know it. Are you seriously just gonna sit there?”

“What, you wanna have this talk standing up?”

“Very funny,” Katniss grunts. I can hear her stomping across the floor. “I guess it’s easy for you when all you have to worry about is what drink you want next.”

“Well, as luck would have it, I always know what I want, so I don’t worry.” Haymitch responds flippantly. 

“Haymitch, we need to figure out what to do about this.”

“Seems to me the only thing we can do is mentor our tributes. It’s just another Hunger Games.”

“This isn’t a joke, okay? Just because you feel this has nothing to do with you-”

Haymitch barks out a humorless laugh. “You’re so selfish, Katniss. You really all this is about you?”

“It sure seems like it. It feels like I’m the one who keeps getting punished or threatened.”

I hear Haymitch groan, which angers Katniss. “What are they forcing you to do, Haymitch? What have they done to you-”

There is another loud banging sound as Haymitch suddenly roars, “What have they done to me!”

I jump in shock, sidling up against the wall. Haymitch keeps talking. He lowers his voice, but I can still hear his anger. 

“Listen, sweetheart, you think I haven’t seen all this before? I’ve spent my life sidestepping their shit. I’ve been playing these games long before you were even born. ”

They are silent for a moment. I peer into the room, catching sight of Haymitch and Katniss standing toe to toe as they face off. 

Haymitch leans towards Katniss with a glare. “If you think you’re the only one they’re screwing with with this stunt, you’re a bigger fool than I thought.”

Katniss stares up at Haymitch coldly but steps back as she catches sight of me. Haymitch notices me too and straightens up. 

“Um, hey.” I say awkwardly, “Are you all right?”

“It’s nothing, sweetheart.” Haymitch says casually as he grabs a glass of liquor from the table. “We were just heading back to our rooms.” He glances at Katniss, who nods. 

“Are you sure-”

“It’s fine, Madge.” Katniss interjects. She slips past me and sets off to her room. 

Haymitch sighs as he watches her leave. He takes a sip of his drink and tells me, “Go on back to sleep. You’ll need all the rest you can get for tomorrow. We'll be in the Capitol soon.”


	5. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge meets Cinna, who teaches her how to shine for the Tribute Parade.

As I meet my prep team, I take a moment to ponder how I ended up in this situation. How these alien figures could be this real, this close to me. It is quite astounding. The three circle me and babble non-stop. I can barely hear a word they say, they talk so fast with their thick Capitol accents. 

Departing the train this morning had been chaotic. Effie had flit about anxiously, ordering everyone about. Peeta had just shaken his head at her fondly and filled Rory and me in about what to expect next. All Katniss told me was that I would like my stylist, Cinna. Haymitch just kept to himself and avoided looking at me. 

Now, Flavius grabs hold of my hair and holds it up for the other two to see. “Look at this! Manageable hair! It’s a miracle!” He starts talking about a coconut oil treatment. I’ve never heard of coconut before so I assume it must be a luxury. 

Octavia coos excitedly and turns to me. “You’re really pretty, you know that? You are going to look stunning!”

I blush. “Thank you.”

Venia looks up from filing my nails to add, “This really is nice. Usually it takes us a good hour just to get the tribute clean. But you, you’re almost already at beauty base zero!”

The other two nod enthusiastically in agreement. I have no idea what that means but I smile to say thanks for, I assume, the compliment. 

For an hour I lie there, embarrassed, as the prep team gushes over my looks while they make me over. They squeal about being able to work on things they usually don’t have time for, like my toenails. Because we all are so concerned about that. 

By the time they are done, I’m grateful for a respite. I do look nicer though. My blonde hair cascades down my back and looks as if it has effortless shine and volume. My eyebrows and eyelashes are the only body hair that remains on me. Every blemish is gone. Even little things have changed; a few pimples on my jawline have vanished and my ears are so thoroughly cleaned out that I can hear the air rushing past me. 

They leave me behind to meet with Cinna the stylist. I am nervous at the thought of meeting all these new people. I have never been great with people I don’t know well. The train ride here was okay because I already knew everyone. Granted, I don’t know Effie that well but I have seen her at every reaping day for years now. 

But meeting all these Capitol people makes me more anxious than ever. If everyone here is like the prep team I have no idea how I can handle this. That’s not even considering what having to meet and train with the other tributes will be like. 

There is a knock at the door and my stylist enters the room. 

“It is nice to meet you.” He shakes my hand warmly. “Katniss has been telling me all about you.”

I instantly see why Katniss likes him. He is very considerate as he offers to order lunch so we can get to know each other. I agree and we are served dishes of pesto pasta topped with salmon and tomatoes. I have never had pesto before and fish is very rare back home, so the whole meal feels like a treat.

“Now, Katniss calls you Madge. Is it alright if I call you that?” Cinna asks, sitting across from me. “Or do you prefer Margaret?”

“Madge is fine.” 

“Excellent.” Cinna gives me an appraising look. I instinctively drop my head and pretend to be focused on my food. 

“Katniss told me that your father is the Mayor of your district.” 

“Yes, he is.”

Cinna stares at me, expecting me to elaborate, but my mind has gone blank. I shove a piece of fish in my mouth as cover. 

“I see you are wearing that lovely Mockingjay pin.” 

I touch the pin instinctively. “Oh, yes, yes, I am.”

“Did Katniss give that to you?”

“She gave it back.” I answer, finally forming more than a few words at a time. “I gave it to her last year.”

“Did you?” 

“I wanted her to have a token. Something from home.” I trail off quietly. I stroke the pin unconsciously as my cheeks flush. Cinna looks so genuinely interested that I feel guilty for not being a more interesting conversationalist.

“Speaking of your home,” Cinna says, “That is why we are here. To showcase you and your district. Luckily, we won’t have to add much. We can just keep you as natural as possible.”

I blink in surprise. “But don’t you want to make me stand out?”

Cinna gives me a shrewd look. “Stand out?”

“You know,” I fumble nervously, wishing I hadn’t said anything. “Light me on fire so everyone in Panem can see me?”

To my surprise, Cinna grins. “You know, Madge, part of why I wished to work with District Twelve is because I always found your home very intriguing. You are a small district, true, but there is a resilience in you. Sometimes you just have to dig deep to find that strength that is hidden away-not unlike a coal mine.”

Cinna chuckles, dabbing his face with his napkin. He continues, “What a lot of people don’t know is that there is a thin line between making someone stand out and letting a person shine.”

“There is?” I ask.

“Anyone can grab for glory and that will capture attention,” Cinna tells me. “But people are a lot more intuitive than we give them credit for. Over time, they will see a person’s true character. So, what I want to do is highlight the strength that is already within you. Do you understand?”

I don’t understand but I nod anyway. 

We finish our food and Cinna guides me down a hallway. As we walk, Cinna explains that instead of focusing on mining or fire, this year the plan is to focus on the effectiveness of coal. Cinna starts talking about how versatile coal is and how many different materials and objects can be made from it and our outfits will display that. 

“No flames this time,” says Cinna. “We want to avoid fireballs chasing after you this year.”

“I appreciate that,” I tell him and we share a smile. 

“The plan instead is to have you and your partner look like anthracite coal.” 

“I’m sorry, but I don’t know what that means.”

We enter a side room with a closet spanning the entirety of one wall. Cinna opens a closet door and shows me a piece of the costume’s material. It is a thin, reflective black plastic. 

“Hard coal.” 

Now I understand. Hard coal is a smooth, metallic looking coal with a shine similar to the plastic. It has the fewest impurities of any coal and emits high levels of energy. 

The pieces of plastic are designed to look like scales, overlapping each other as they spread out over the outfit, intersecting into different designs and patterns. Each piece has to be put on separately, so one member of the prep team has to hold each piece in place while another helps me slide it on. Once on, though, it is surprisingly easy to move in, the scales conforming to my body with every movement. 

All together, the costume is a short dress with a puffed out skirt and large, spiral pieces on the sides and knee high boots. My hair is down with a small matching scaled headband. 

We meet up with Rory, whose outfit is a sleeveless jumpsuit made of the same scaled material.

“Madge!” Rory races to me. “This is so cool. Look!”

He spreads his arms wide, giving me a better look at his costume. “We look like dragons!”

I burst into laughter. “We sure do.”

Rory bounces on the tip of the toes and begins talking a mile a minute about every detail of his costume, despite it being so similar to mine. He begins repeating himself as he stumbles over his words. Venia from my prep time calls us into another room and Rory dashes after her clumsily into the room. 

Rory’s stylist, Portia, turns to me and Cinna and says, “Don’t mind him. I think he’s having a sugar rush. He ate half the dessert tray.”

I frown. With Rory’s stomach aching last night and this, he needs to slow down on the Capitol food. We definitely need to keep his sugar down. For sure he cannot be drinking anymore lemonade.

In the next room, Cinna and Portia examine the two of us as we stand in front of some mirrors. Rory cannot keep still, shuffling around. He stares at himself as he stands proudly and puffs out his chest. 

I cannot help but giggle. “What are you doing?”

Rory’s ears tinge pink but he keeps his stance. “I’m just practicing.” He turns to his side, holding his shoulders up. “People need to see how strong I am so I can get sponsors.” 

Rory crouches, flexing his arms down in front of him as he shows off his nonexistent muscles. 

“Very imposing.” I tell him, deadpan.

“Whatever.” Rory hops back up. “The crowd just needs to see me and they’ll know how tough I am.”

“Hmm,” I tap my finger on my chin as I pretend to ponder him. “That’s true. It’s a shame that your hair ruins the look.”

“What? It does not!” Rory peers into the mirror.

“Well, it will.” I reach my hand out to ruffle Rory’s hair. Rory dodges me and he ducks over to the wall. 

“Cut it out.” He huffs, trying to hide his grin.

Of course, this just makes it funnier to me. I dart forward with my hands outstretched. Rory side-steps me and starts energetically running down the hallway, laughing loudly. 

One of his prep team members calls after him worryingly but Portia calmly calls out, “Rory, you know how long it took to put your outfit on. Imagine if you messed it up.”

Rory stops short and sheepishly turns back to us. He points at me and states, “She started it.” 

I cover my mouth as I giggle. I catch Cinna giving us a fond smile but his eyes look a little sad.

* * *

We journey to the backstage area. Everyone looks at us when we arrive, eager to see what District 12 has pulled together this time. Some of the other stylists look disappointed when they see us. A few of them smirk, gleeful that last year’s success has not been repeated. 

Cinna chuckles as he escorts Rory and me to our chariot. “They must not remember that we didn’t set the fire right away last year.”

As Rory and I wait, I look around at the others. Cinna was right about how making the tributes stand out is different from making the person shine. Other stylists have copied him and Portia without quite understanding what they did. A lot of the tributes have some variation of fire on their costumes. 

The District 3 tributes have lights placed on strategic areas, which gives the hilarious impression that their genitals are about to be fried off. 

The District 4 tributes are dressed as mermaids for what has to be the sixth year in a row. The boy sort of pulls it off since he is merely shirtless with green pants made to look like a tail. The girl is not so lucky. She is too tall, too broad shouldered for her seashell bra. Parts of their skin are painted a green color that makes them look sick. 

Soon it is time to begin. Rory and I move into place as the chariots set off one by one. Shortly before our turn to leave, Cinna and Portia each press a small switch hidden in our clothes. The outfits light up with LED fluorescents, the different patterns switching to different colors from red to purple to green.

As we ride out into the streets, the patterns on our outfits begin to move. Our scales shift back and forth like waves, changing with the colors. The spirals on the sides of my skirt spin, swirling bright pink and white lights. 

We ride through the City Circle, the crowds whooping in excitement for District 12. Their enthusiasm is infectious, and my smile slowly becomes genuine. I realize just how much goodwill District 12 has earned from last year’s Games. 

Our chariots halt in front of the President’s mansion and he begins his welcome. Despite so many of the other tributes being illuminated this year, our ever changing colors and shapes keep people’s attention on us. The cameras cut to Rory and me continuously throughout the speech.

Once the anthem is finished playing, the chariots head out towards the Training Center. We have one more surprise though. As we turn to leave, sparks erupt from the back of our boots. The crowd howls in joy as the sparks trail behind us, making our chariot look like a rocket speeding away. By the time we reach the Center, the crowd is chanting for District 12.

We ride the elevator up to our suite, where we reunite with the rest of the team. 

Effie hops from foot to foot. “Wonderful!” She turns to Cinna and Portia and congratulates them. “Oh, you two are marvelous. No one can make them stand out like you do.”

Cinna catches my eye and winks. I try to smile at him, only to realize I haven’t stopped smiling since the parade.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The parade costumes were inspired by Iris van Herpin's designs for the New York City Ballet's performance of _Neverwhere._ There are photos of them online as well as videos of the artists discussing them. They are really cool if you have an interest in that sort of thing.


	6. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Training begins and the tributes are introduced to one another.

Officially, Katniss is my mentor and Peeta is Rory’s. However, since Haymitch is “mentoring the mentors”, the three of them have grouped together and blurred any lines over who is helping who. Fortunately, neither Rory nor I mind being trained together. 

The day after the parade, we all gather for breakfast. The three begin explaining what to expect in the Training Center. Rory barely spares them a glance as he gobbles his food. I try to pay close attention. I admit to them I am a little nervous about the training scores. 

“You have nothing to worry about, dear, sponsors are going to love you.” Effie tells me, patting my hand. “A good-looking girl like you doesn’t need a high score.” 

I blush in surprise at her words. 

“Besides, not all of us can score an eleven,” Peeta jokes, cocking his thumb at Katniss, who smirks at him. 

“What did you do, Katniss?” Rory asks, “It was your bow, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” Katniss says plainly. 

Peeta prompts, “And?”

“And,” Katniss continues, “I shot an apple out of a pig’s mouth.”

“A what? Why was there a pig?” I ask, confused. For a horrible moment I am afraid they might train us by making us practice and kill animals. But the others grin at each other.

“The Gamemakers were paying more attention to their lunch than me. So I got their attention.” 

I gasp in realization. “You shot at them?” 

Haymitch snorts into his drink as Peeta starts chuckling. Effie shakes her head fondly at them.

“They gave you an eleven for that?” I ask.

Katniss just shrugs but I feel a pit in my stomach. I remember those times Katniss took me outside of District 12 and tried to show me how to use her bow. I could barely hold the thing properly. If displays of that kind of talent are what we need then there is no way I am going to get a good score.

Rory and I show up for training at the same time as District 5. We awkwardly avoid eye contact with them as the other tributes filter in. Districts 1 and 2 make a loud entrance together. Hurray for the Careers. 

The head of the training center, Atala, steps forward and welcomes us. As she talks I feel someone’s eyes on me. I look over my shoulder and see the boy from District 1 surveying me. We make eye contact and he smirks. I quickly look forward again.

I feel self-conscious as I look around at the other tributes. I have never really thought about my height before but I am definitely one of the shortest tributes here. Of the older kids, only the girl from District 1 is shorter than me. But what she lacks in height she makes up for in pure muscle.

“So,” I ask Rory when Atala is finished, “Anywhere you want to go first?”

The Careers have darted to the knife station. I personally would like to try knot tying or camouflage. 

“Fire.” Rory points to the station and we walk over there.The boy from District 8 joins us there as the trainer begins. I notice hardly any of the other tributes have stuck with their district partners. 

Rory is immediately good at fire while the District 8 boy and I blunder through our task. The trainer has Rory move on while we keep working.

“Not your strong suit?” the District 8 boy asks me. 

I jolt in surprise at the boy’s question. “Oh, no. No, not really. I don’t understand though, I can do it back home.”

“You make a lot of fires?”

“Not really,” I admit. “I sometimes make one after dinner or during the winter. But it’s never been this difficult.”

“We don’t have much use for fire back home. The factories are usually burning hot.”

“What about cooking?”

“Most people have a gas stove.”

That’s right, District 8. Papa gets coverage of it sometimes in his study at home. Everything there is so industrial and cramped. 

“We use gas in our house too. Most people use wood though.” I nod over to Rory who has mastered his second task.

“That’s right. I heard you were a Mayor’s daughter.” 

“Yes, I’m Madge.” I hold out my hand. He shakes it.

“I’m Sprig.”

Sprig is probably a year or two younger than me. He is very cute with heavy-lidded, deep set narrow eyes. He’s pale with thick straight black hair and strong arms and big hands, which keep fumbling with his matches. He has a sweet smile with dimples and I unexpectedly feel very sad talking to him. 

I finally manage to make a fire and Rory decides we should try a different station. We try edible plants, which of course Rory excels at while I continue to struggle. I am starting to feel anxious. 

The Careers finally move on from the knives station over to hand to hand combat so Rory and I head over there. The knives are strangely beautiful, shining in the light. I grin and I see my smile reflected in all of the knives. I pick one up delicately. 

“Careful with that.” 

I jump at the voice in my ear. I turn to see the boy from District 1 grinning at me.

“We don’t wanna have an accident. Don’t wanna cut your pretty little face up.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” I say, still tense from him startling me.

He holds his hands up in mock defeat. “I’m just teasing. I’m just teasing.” 

His tone is light and casual but everything else about him is so rough and vicious that it is impossible to trust anything about him. Rory also senses it, continually peeking at us worriedly from his spot.

“You know,” the boy adds, crossing his arms, “I could help you out. With those knives, I mean. If you need the help.”

I don’t want any help from this boy and I certainly do not want to be anywhere near him with a knife. “I think I’ll just learn from the trainers. Seems easier.”

The boy’s eyes narrow but he keeps his voice friendly. “Of course. Well, you let me know if you change your mind. The name’s Gusto.”

It takes all my strength to hold back a laugh at his name. 

“Oh, hello. I’m Madge.”

“Well, Madge,” Gusto smirks again, “It was a pleasure.”

With that he returns to the Careers. At once, Rory is at my side.

“What was that about?” 

I shake my head. “No idea, Rory.”

“He was flirting.”

Rory and I turn to our left to see the tall boy from District 7. He is not looking at us but closely examining a knife in each hand. 

I hadn’t even noticed he was there, which seems impossible since you can immediately spot him from across the room. He is a good few inches taller than any of the other tributes. He is also broad and muscular with light tawny brown skin.

I think about what he said. “What?”

“He was flirting,” the District 7 boy repeats, exchanging a knife. His voice is deep yet soft, painting a weird picture of this tribute. I’m not sure how to read him. 

“I doubt that,” I say, stepping beside him. “The Hunger Games aren’t really the place for romance.”

“Really? Someone from District Twelve is saying that?”

Rory snickers while I blush. “You know what I mean. Besides, District One knows better. He was probably just scouting to see if I was an easy kill or not.”

The District 7 boy just shrugs. “Whatever you say.”

“You’re so tall! Like a giant.” Rory exclaims, as if he cannot contain himself any longer. 

“Rory!” I admonish, unsure how the boy will take that. 

But the District 7 boy just smirks. “Don’t worry. He’s just stating a fact.”

The boy from District 7 crouches down and kneels in front of Rory so they are almost eye to eye and holds out his tanned hand. “I’m Foster.”

Rory shakes it eagerly. “Rory. And she’s Madge.”

Foster nods at me. I nod back, praying that I have stopped blushing by now. 

Rory asks Foster more questions, which he answers patiently. He stays with us at the knife station, splitting attention between Rory and the instructor. The instructor seems impressed with his skill with a knife. Foster admits he can work with a knife well enough, but he is better with an axe or a saw. 

I, on the other hand, am clumsy with the knife. I always assumed a knife was one of easy weapons but there is a lot more finesse to it that I thought. Rory is not as accomplished as he was at the other stations, so we stay a long time, learning all that we can. 

We only have about a half hour left when we leave the knife station. I ask Rory if he would like to visit the camouflage station. 

“Um,” Rory shifts and asks, “Could we maybe go to hand to hand combat?”

I blink at him, surprised at his sudden discomfort. But I still agree and we join the station.

There is only one other tribute still at the station. One of the trainers greets us.

“Since the day is almost done, we can’t practice,” the trainer tells us. “But we can still go over some pointers.”

“You know what, it’s okay,” Rory says abruptly. “We can just do this some other time.” 

He turns and starts walking away. I thank the trainer quickly and catch up with Rory.

“Hey,” I stop him gently. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“Nothing.” He says quickly, avoiding eye contact. 

“Come on. I can tell something’s up.”

Rory just stares. I cross my arms and hold our gaze, not backing down.

Finally, Rory groans in exasperation. “Fine! I just, you know. I just don’t know how I’m gonna fight anyone. In the arena and stuff.”

“Right.” I say, feeling silly for not realizing what was going on.

I recall Rory trying to look muscular in his parade costume last night.I’ve been focused on how much smaller I am than the other tributes, of course Rory has been too. I feel so terrible for him. I know how difficult the Games have been for me, I can’t begin to imagine what going through this at 12-years-old feels like.

“I understand, Rory.”

Rory crosses his arms. “Yeah?”

“Definitely. Look, I have no idea how to handle anything like this either. Why do you think I keep wanting to go to all the defense stations? If I camouflage myself well enough I won’t have to fight.”

Rory peeks up at me and I give him a sympathetic look. He sighs wearily. Then he smirks and cheekily states, “Well, at least I know I can beat you up.” 

I gasp melodramatically which makes him smile. I am relieved to see him kidding around.

“Oh, really?” I ask playfully, “Well, how do you do with…THIS!”

I suddenly swoop Rory up in my arms. I am only slightly taller than him, but I still manage to lift him a couple inches off the ground, his feet dangling. 

“AHHH!” I yell, spinning him around in a circle, his legs flying out behind him.

“Stop! Madge!” He laughs in my ear. “Madge! I’ll get dizzy and puke all over you!”

I stop spinning and set him down, the two of us dissolving into peals of laughter. As our laughter dies down, I notice the training center has quieted. I look up to see that the others have stopped to pay attention to us. I didn’t realize how loud we had gotten. 

The Careers are standing off to the side, clumped together. They are all scowling at us mockingly. Embarrassed, I look away. That is when I notice the other tributes. They are not glaring but instead are giving us looks of approval, almost as they are pleasantly surprised by us. Somehow that makes me feel even more uncomfortable.

Needless to say, I am grateful when we are dismissed for the day.

The next day in training, we stop by hand to hand combat again. Rory is still hesitant so I step in to wrestle with the instructor-who promptly takes me out. It is humiliating, but it pushes Rory onto the mat to try it himself, which feels like the real accomplishment.


	7. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It is time for the training sessions but Madge is beginning to realize just how unprepared she is.

As Rory and I carry on with our training, we try not to stick with one station for too long. I continue to be hopeless at almost everything. Fortunately, it becomes apparent that I have some skill in defense skills. I am good at tying knots and working with rope. I am also not too bad at camouflage and shelter-making. 

Plus, the instructor at hand to hand combat informs me that I am not in bad shape, saying I have a good core and lower body strength, which is good if I need to push myself through something. 

“Plus, you can run decently.” She adds, “The kids that can’t run fast enough are always the ones that end up in the most danger.” 

At night, Katniss and Peeta take turns instructing us. Peeta teaches some first aid tips to support us if we get injured but need to keep moving. I assume Peeta’s experience in the arena and his artificial leg has increased his interest in medicine.

Katniss teaches us (well, me) how to survive in the wilderness. Katniss is clearly in her element, looking much more confident than she has in the past year. Again, I have a knack for ropes and knots when Katniss demonstrates how to create snares. 

“It’s all that piano playing. You have quick fingers,” Peeta quips. 

Peeta insists I am improving but how he can tell after only a few days is beyond me. I just know I am going to have a low score. Effie, however, is still dismissive of poor scores. 

“If these two score miserably, it will be an excellent opportunity for Haymitch to teach you how to negotiate with sponsors,” she informs Katniss and Peeta cheerfully. The two give her blank stares in response.

I wonder how Haymitch is doing as the “Mentor’s Mentor”. I have barely seen him around since we started staying in the District 12 suite. He shuffles in at mealtimes, drinks and then vanishes again. Secretly, I am glad that Haymitch is no longer the only mentor for our district. Him neglecting our training is probably the only way I could be worse off than I already am. 

Still, even with my slight improvement, it is becoming obvious that I am woefully far behind all the other tributes-even more than I had originally feared. I had accepted that I wasn’t going to survive the Games once I vowed to help Rory win. But now I am beginning to worry that the biggest burden to him during the Games could be having to deal with me.

The night before our final training session, I decide I need to talk to Rory about this. I creep to his room and softly knock on the door. He opens it, rubbing at his eyes.

“Madge? What is it? Something wrong?”

“No, everything’s fine. Can we talk, real quick?”

“Yeah.” 

He lets me in and plops down on his bed and sits cross legged. I sit opposite him on the foot of his bed and try to swallow down my nerves. I clasp my hands in my lap and look down at them as I speak. 

“We are going into the arena soon. I was thinking about what we should do-the two of us, I mean.” I realize I am just going to keep rambling so I spit out, “So I was wondering if you might maybe want to make an alliance with me?”

I peek up just in time to see Rory hesitate so I add, “I understand if you don’t want to. I would probably just hold you back. I know I’m awful at training.”

“That’s not it.” Rory says, shaking his head. “Of course I wanna be in alliance with you Madge. It’s just I don’t know what to do if it came down to us.”

I wonder what Rory’s more scared of, me killing him or him having to kill me?

“I really doubt that it will come to that.” I tell him honestly. “With everything that can happen, the odds of that happening are-”

“The odds weren’t in our favor when we got reaped.” Rory interrupts, a serious look on his face. 

I stare at this young boy and once again I am reminded of how horribly unfair all of this is. He doesn’t deserve this. Gradually, that determination I felt in the Justice Building returns to me. I take Rory’s hands in mine and look him straight in the eye. “Rory, I will do everything I can to keep you safe. I promise.”

“But what about you?” He asks me with a frown. 

“You don’t need to worry about me. Just take care of yourself. I can’t do all the work, after all,” I try to joke but it falls flat.

“Really, I’m going to be fine,” I tell him reassuringly. “Just focus on your training session tomorrow.”

Rory opens his mouth to say more but closes it. He avoids my eyes but nods.

* * *

The next day is long and boring as we await our turns in front of the Gamemakers. Fortunately, the Career Districts get called early enough that we don’t have to deal with their posturing much. 

Once the girl from District 11 is called in, Rory and I sit alone. The room feels so cold without so many people around.

“Do you have a plan?” I ask Rory to fill the quiet. 

He nods, looking unsure. “Yeah. Do you?”

“Nope.”

“Seriously?” He asks me.

“No matter what I do it is going to be terrible. Why fret over it?”

That is a straight up lie. I have been worrying about my session constantly throughout this past week. I barely slept last night as my mind desperately tried to strategize. 

But I don’t want to let Rory see how anxious I am. So I keep a calm expression even while he stares at me, perplexed.

He is called in for his session and I give him a reassuring smile as he walks off. Once I am alone, I give myself a couple of seconds to properly panic.

What can I do? I can’t go in there and tie knots for ten minutes. Maybe I could camouflage myself? Or build a shelter? But both of those take so much time and who knows how long they will keep me there? 

I shake my head. I am just repeating the conversations I had with myself last night. Knots are still my best skill-I have to do something based on that. But how can that impress the Gamemakers?

I am so lost. I wish Papa was here to give me advice. Thinking about him was a mistake because now I am homesick in addition to anxious. But as I think of him, I remember his words to me.

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

It is my turn for the Gamemakers. I breathe deep and force myself to stand on shaky legs. I square my shoulders to look more confident and march forward. 

When I enter my session, the Gamemakers are all high up in their stands. They are lounging around lazily, gulping down wine and talking amongst themselves. A few of them perk up when I enter, which surprises me. One of them even nudges another in the ribs and nods at him. I wonder what they could be thinking but then I figure they are probably just curious about the District 12 girl following Katniss Everdeen. 

Well, fortunately for them, I am not shooting an arrow at anyone. Unfortunately for me, I am going to seem even more pathetic with their hopes so high. I head over to the knot station. I grab a handful of rope and begin to tie as I try to think of what to make. Katniss said I make decent snares. That will have to do. 

My fingers are indeed quick as I make a snare. Once I hold the finished product, I now have to think of what to do next. I set it up the way Katniss showed me, which is perfect for catching anyone who steps into it. 

Only, it is unimpressive just laying there inconspicuously. If only I had someone who could demonstrate it for me.

Then I have an idea. An idea that is either brilliant or incredibly dumb. I pause, wondering if this can work, when my Papa’s words echo in my mind. 

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

Right. I am not going to make it far in the Games with half measures. I have to be there for Rory.

I walk up to the snare and step in it, allowing it to hoist me up into the air. I dangle from the rope by my foot. I hear a few surprised voices. I peer and see some upside down Gamemakers murmuring to one another. I’ve caught a few of their interest.

I have tied the knots well enough-obviously or it would have collapsed from my weight by now-but I wonder if they are too good for my next idea. Too late to back out now.

I grasp the back of my thighs and use them as an anchor as I pull myself into a sit up. My ab muscles burn as I push my torso up. I wrap my arms around my knees and press them to my chest to keep my head up. I must look ridiculous, my body swaying in the air as I hold a jack knife pose. 

I reach for the rope around my ankle. With every ounce of upper body strength I have, I pull myself up the rope, until I am almost right side up again. At this angle, I can see the best way to escape. I clutch at the rope as I lean to unravel the knot, which allows my foot to slide out. As soon as it is free, the arm holding the rope to keep me up exhausts itself and I drop to the floor. 

Thankfully, I land on my butt on the mat, so I look better than I intended. I sigh in relief and push myself up. My hair has come undone during my struggle, so I shake it out and swoop it back to redo my ponytail. I hear laughter and when I look back over to the Gamemakers, there are a few more paying attention than when I entered, which is surprising. I feel my face heat up and I drop my hands from my hair nervously. It whooshes back down and one of them laughs again.

A Gamemaker announces I am dismissed.

“Right. Thank you.” I tell them quietly.

“No, thank you.” One of them responds. A few chuckle and they are all smirking to one another. Uncomfortable, I spin on my heel and try not run out of the room. Behind me, a few more call out thank you to me again. 

Great. They must be mocking me. I didn’t think I had performed that badly. Well, despite the Gamemakers, I feel as if I have accomplished something despite knowing I haven’t done anything that impressive. I am mostly overjoyed that I didn’t make a fool of myself like I had feared. Still, I don’t expect a good score. 

Sure enough, no one is surprised when Rory scores a six and I earn a seven.


	8. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge prepares for her interview and needs to think of a way to present herself to sponsors.

Haymitch, Katniss and Peeta stare at me for an uncomfortably long time. Katniss's brow is knotted in concentration while Peeta has his head tilted in confusion. Haymitch looks like he could use a drink. Rory and Effie are sitting off to the side, their eyes flicking back and forth as if something interesting is happening. 

Eventually, Katniss scoffs and throws her hands up in exasperation. “Nothing. I got nothing. Who here thought it was a good idea for me to come up with an angle?”

Haymitch rolls his eyes. Peeta leans back into the sofa, still thinking.

Effie clears her throat. “Well, there’s a lot of choices. Why don’t we start with what we all already know about Madge, hmm?”

Haymitch looks over at Effie in irritation. Katniss frowns.

“She’s kind,” says Peeta.

“No, no.” Haymitch says, stretching his back. “No. Sweet and innocent isn’t going to get you anywhere in these Games.”

I look down at my hands and sigh.

Effie speaks up again. “She’s a mayor’s daughter. So classy, elegant. She’s beautiful. So sexy, desirable.”

“Well,” Peeta begins, unsure, “That sexy idea might not be a bad one. Everyone thinks of District Twelve as this starry-eyed setting now. So, we can romanticize her. She has been sweet up until now so we can wow everyone in the interview with this side of her.”

To my horror, everyone seems to like this idea.

“What?” I ask, looking around frantically. “I can’t be sexy. Boys don’t like me.”

“That’s not true, Madge,” says Peeta.

“Well, I don’t date then,” I say, “And I have never been…seductive or alluring or anything like that.”

“Madge,” says Katniss, “I’ve seen Cinna’s dress for you. I think he had a sexy angle for you all along.”

“What?” I gasp, thinking of the see-through dress the girl from District 1 wore last year. “What did he do?”

“It’s just…flattering,” Katniss says, waving her hand dismissively. 

I gape. “How revealing is it?”

“Not very. But it’s attractive. Which is what you can play off of.”

I play with my hands nervously. “Like how?

For the next hour I get lessons on how to be sexy. 

Fun. 

Effie teaches me how to walk in heels, giving an extra sashay in each step to draw attention to the right spots. I learn how to make my ‘sweet little smile’ as she calls it, dazzling and charming. I learn how to flip my hair, bite my lip, pout and look up through lidded eyes. 

It’s a train wreck. 

I look nervous. I keep stuttering. Biting my lip looks more like me gnawing at my chin. I can’t find anything to do with my hands aside from my default position of them clasped in front of me.

Finally, Effie seems to accept that her lessons are not working. She shrugs to herself. “Well, maybe your looks will work on their own. It is a good thing that you are so much more voluptuous than most tributes too!”

Katniss makes a face at that. I can tell she is forcing herself not to point out that I am better fed than most people in our district. 

“We at least need to get rid of that startled look you have on camera. You cannot go up on stage and look terrified.” Effie announces. This point, we all agree on so Effie starts coaching me to look more natural during the interview, which is a slightly easier task.

Fortunately, Rory and I are collected to get ready for the evening, meaning we get to leave the bickering group behind. The prep team is in high spirits as they greet me and Cinna has to sternly remind them to get to work. 

I am dressed in a sparkling black dress. The bottom flares out into an asymmetrical skirt that ends above my knees in the front before swooping down in the back. It is covered in intricate black beading that makes it appear like a scorched Earth, looking sultry yet tasteful. Somehow, Cinna has made a piece of coal appear incredible. 

My blonde hair is styled into smooth waves and sprinkled with a gold dust powder to make it sheen. My skin is also shimmering and I have sheer arm warmers with intricate black swirls spiraling up my forearms. My make-up is glamorous with smokey black eyeshadow and bright red lipstick that contrasts with everything else about me. 

The prep team praises me until Cinna dismisses them and we are left alone. I turn to Cinna and give him a light smile. He reaches forward and twists a strand of my hair around his finger affectionately. 

“You look lovely.”

“Thank you,” I say sadly.

Cinna looks concerned. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m not…sexy.” Immediately, I feel mortified and stammer, “No-no, I mean...”

Cinna just smiles. “Madge, it’s all right.”

“I just don’t understand why I have to do all this,” I say, gesturing to my dress. 

“It’s playing to your attributes,” says Cinna. “Other tributes have other things they can play up. They all have to rely on things like strength though. You have intellect and wit.”

“But I’m not using my intellect though,” I say with a sigh. “They’re making me seem vain.”

“They want you to be charming, Madge. Charm requires a lot of intelligence and wit.”

“I don’t feel charming. I don’t even feel like me.”

Cinna pauses, resting his chin in his hand. “Madge, do you know what bituminous coal is?”

I nod because this time I do know that coal. Bituminous coal is usually just called black coal and it is very common. Everyone in District 12 has been around black coal.

“I decided to use it as the basis for your outfit tonight.” He gestures to my dress and I see the similarities, as both the coal and the dress sparkle in the light. 

Cinna adds, “Bituminous coal is sometimes called dull, you know. It’s not as striking as anthracite coal. It is softer, more malleable.” 

I look at myself in the mirror, and I let his words sink in. Yes, soft and dull. Perfect for me. 

Cinna puts his hand on my shoulder and continues. “We overlook it sometimes, but it is much tougher than it seems. Right?”

I glance up at Cinna in surprise. 

“It is still strong and distinctive. That coal is considered rather dangerous,” He says, a smile on his lips, “Am I right?”

I nod, my mind spinning at his words. “It emits the most firedamp,” I tell him. “It can cause explosions.”

Cinna rubs my shoulder comfortingly. “All that power, hidden in plain sight.” Cinna gives me a wink in the mirror. “Now come along, Madge. They’re all waiting for you.”

Cinna and I are the last people to meet out in the hall. The prep team squeals at the sight of me. They gush about how glad they are that the skin shimmer worked. 

Rory is wearing a cute tuxedo with beading similar to my dress. It doesn’t make him look strong or intimidating but it does make him look very sweet. His eyes widen at the sight of me. Peeta also looks at me appreciatively and I feel flushed. I cannot tell what Katniss or Haymitch are thinking, as usual. 

We ride the elevator down together and are greeted by the flurry of the backstage as the tributes line up. Rory and I are pushed to the end of the line and soon we march out across the stage in front of the City Circle. 

Caesar Flickerman glides onstage as we take our seats. The crowd roars for him, but he jokingly chides them, telling them to save their voices for the tributes. 

And then we’re off. 

District 1 starts it all. The girl-named Opaline-is wearing a silver dress with diamond-studded tassels dangling from it and an intricate matching headdress. She is wearing very tall platform shoes that dramatically improve her height but make her walk amusingly slow. I look down at my relatively conservative heels a bit more fondly. 

Gusto is a force of nature, gruff and destructive. He talks about how excited he is to get into the arena tomorrow. I feel like vomiting. 

The District 4 girl, Hali, once again looks out of place. Her dark green gown has a thick fringe on it, making it look like she is wrapped in seaweed like a sushi roll. I almost feel bad for her but then her interview is similar to Gusto’s and I change my mind. 

Caesar has a lot of fun with Foster’s height. He compares him to a tree from his district and then makes a joke about size envy that the audience thinks is a real hoot. To Foster’s credit, he goes along with the joke and uses his height to his advantage, seeming affable but strong and powerful. Playing up his attributes. 

The District 10 interviews are awkward. There’s no way to avoid bringing up that they are cousins and it is horribly uncomfortable as they both try to talk around it.

Before I know it, it’s my turn. I walk up to Caesar Flickerman as calmly as possible. I feel my cheeks burn red as I face the crowd. My knees are shaking-

_Stop it,_ I think. _Confidence. You can handle this._

My father’s words repeat in my head. 

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

I can’t second-guess myself. 

“So, Margaret,” Caesar begins.

I hold up my hand. “Please, Caesar. Call me Madge,” I say as if this is the thousandth time I’ve had to remind him of this. 

Caesar chuckles. “Of course. Now, Madge, what did you think when you first saw the Capitol?”

“I thought that I had never seen such a beautiful thing in all my life.”

“I have a feeling most of us were thinking the same thing about you,” Caesar says. The crowd cheers in response. 

I feel my face heat up as I blush but I decide to use it to my advantage. It is one of my attributes, after all. “Oh, Caesar!” I cry, bringing my hands to my cheeks. “Stop it! Don’t make a girl blush on TV!” 

“Hey,” Caesar’s smile widens, the same way it does whenever he comes across a tribute willing to banter with him, “I can’t help it. I’m only a man.” Caesar lets out a playful wolf-whistle. The crowd roars with laughter.

I place my hands on my chest and feign shock. “Why, Mr. Flickerman!” I gasp melodramatically. “And here I thought you were a gentleman.”

Caesar pretends to look ashamed. For a moment he looks so cute and childish and I think of sweet Vick Hawthorne, too shy to talk to me.

“Aw, Caesar,” I say, as if I actually believe he is sad. I rest a comforting hand on his shoulder. “Don’t be so glum! I still think you’re a sweetheart.”

And to everyone’s shock, no one more than my own, I lean over and give Caesar Flickerman a quick kiss on the cheek.

Oh no, oh no, what did I do? Before I have truly enough time to panic, Caesar brings his hand up to his cheek, stunned, and pretends to faint. 

I have never been more thankful to a person in my life. Caesar sits back up as the audience howls, screaming with laughter. 

“Isn’t she something folks?” Caesar gestures to me. The crowd responds enthusiastically. I smile and give a mock curtsy. The crowd eats it up whilst I inwardly groan.

What am I doing? 

This isn’t confidence, this is lunacy. I wonder what people back home are thinking.

Home. Oh, no. They probably all think that I am some horrible sell out, that the Mayor’s girl was this big phony the whole time. 

Caesar is up again and I decide I need to dial this back. I only have moments left to rectify this embarrassing display. 

“Now, Madge,” Caesar says, flushed from the fake fainting, “I understand that your father is the Mayor of District Twelve.”

I smile at the thought of my father. “Yes.”

“There has been a lot of eyes on District Twelve this year. How have you dealt with this?”

“To be honest Caesar, I think that it’s refreshing that everyone is beginning to see District Twelve for what it really is.”

The audience murmurs to one another in confusion. But this isn’t for them. 

“District Twelve is a remarkable place,” I say. “The people there are remarkable. Growing up in Twelve, you grow up smart and strong because it’s what you need to do to survive. I couldn’t be more proud to come from a place that is full of people like that.”

“And do you think that you are remarkable enough to win?” asks Caesar.

No, I think immediately. But I can find the strength within me to help Rory win.

And I can find some strength in me to get through this interview. So I give a playful shrug of the shoulder and say, “Who knows Caesar? I’ll say one thing though, I am full of surprises.”

The buzzer goes off and the crowd roars because I have surprised them. But I don’t think anyone was more surprised than me.


	9. Part 1 "The Base" Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge is a hit with the audience, but she feels worse than ever. Now she only has one night left before the Games begin.

The moment I turn away from the audience, my nerves come back in full force. It’s all I can do not to run away from Caesar, all but collapsing into my chair. 

The crowd is still cheering for me as Rory goes up to Caesar. That is a little reassuring but not enough to calm me. I fiddle with my hands in front of me and try not slip into my startled look Effie worked to rid me of. I can’t pay attention to any of Rory’s interview because my mind is racing so fast. 

What did I just do?

I am going to die in the arena. I know that. But I don’t want to die a fool. Was getting sponsors worth selling out? 

Rory wraps up his interview and us tributes all stand up as Caesar says goodnight. My legs are trembling throughout the anthem. 

Rory notices something is wrong with me. The moment we are dismissed he gently grabs my hand and leads me backstage. Some people congratulate Rory and me but I keep my head down and concentrate on the floor. As we pass by, Gusto lets out a wolf whistle similar to Caesar’s. I rush past him. 

When we arrive at our suite, Effie immediately pounces on me.

“That was wonderful!” She trills, squeezing me. I can hardly breathe. From either nerves or the hug, I am not sure.

Rory is still looking at me with concern so I fake a smile. “Was it? It wasn’t too...I don’t know, over the top or anything?”

Effie immediately launches into a speech about how it was great but Cinna cuts in and calmly assures me that I did well. He is seconded by Peeta and Rory nods. 

We sit down and watch the recap. I know it is coming but I still am not prepared for when my name is called.

I look unreal on television, almost ethereal. Everything about me is amped up to such a ridiculous level it is hard to believe this person exists, what with her sparkling from head to toe. My crazed performance doesn’t help matters. 

Effie squeals at every ‘highlight’ of the interview. I feel my stomach drop with each passing second. By the time I kiss Caesar’s cheek, I am holding back tears. 

Someone-Peeta, I think-mentions that the crowd likes me. For some reason, that is the thing that makes me feel the worst of all. Who cares if the crowd likes me? It’s all empty. It is like the Gamemakers repeating my thank you during my training session. For a moment, I was entertaining and that is all they care about.

I can’t take any more embarrassment. I stand up and rush back to my room, ignoring the calls behind me.

In my room I openly cry. I might die tomorrow. I will definitely be dead soon. And here I am, letting the Capitol turn me into a little dress up doll. 

I discard the dress and shoes. I shower and sob as loud as I want to inside. When I come out I stride over to my closet and pull out my only reminder of home. I slip on the lilac dress and tie my ribbon in my hair. I look in the mirror and for the first time in a week I see me again. I missed her.

If I spend the last few hours of my life as myself, that is better than anything I had hoped for. 

It is late when there is a knock at my door. I open it and am surprised to find Katniss standing there. She, in turn, looks surprised at my attire. 

“Hey, can I talk to you?” She asks me. 

I nod and step aside to let her in. As she looks around my room, I realize how little time I have spent with Katniss this week. When we did anything together she was always distant, explaining skills and tactics to me in a businesslike fashion. 

She sits herself on the foot of my bed so I settle at the vanity across from her. 

“You looked upset, I just wanted to make sure…” Katniss trails off.

“I’m better now. I just needed a moment.”

“Right.”

“Don’t worry about me.” I tell her. She looks unconvinced so I add, “Hey, I scored a seven. Clearly, I can take care of myself.” 

She chuckles but her mind seems preoccupied. She reminds me of Gale when he came to say goodbye to me, not sure how to articulate what they are thinking.

I open my mouth to try to fill the silence but Katniss finally speaks up.

“Why did you give me your Mockingjay pin?” She asks and I notice she is staring at the pin attached to the front of my dress.

I blink in confusion. I had not been expecting that. Plus, she and I already spoke about mockingjays during the District 12 party for her Victory Tour. Still, it is obvious this has been weighing on her mind so I answer her. 

“Well, I thought you should have a token and-”

“I mean, why did you give me it?” Katniss looks frustrated with herself. “I get the idea of the token, but why did you want to give me something like that?”

Again, she reminds me so much of Gale saying his goodbyes. I remember this time last year when I visited Katniss in the Justice Building to say goodbye. I had been so afraid I would never speak to her again. 

Now here we are and I know I am never going to speak to her again. So I tell her the truth.

“My mama gave me this pin right before our first Reaping Day. It had been her sister’s pin before. She wore it as her token in the arena too.”

Katniss’s eyes widen in surprise. I look down at the pin and run my thumb over it. 

“When she gave this to me, Mama told me that this pin was a symbol of everyone back home. It’s a symbol of all of us out in the districts. She said that no matter what, you are never alone.”

“I thought about you in the Capitol or in the arena and how lonely someone would feel out there. I wanted you to know we were all with you.”

I look up and catch Katniss staring at me with an unreadable expression. I don’t know what else to say so I shrug and drop my hand. Then, to my surprise, Katniss reaches forward and pulls me into a hug. 

“Thank you,” she whispers to me as I return the hug. When we pull apart, Katniss isn’t crying but the cold, stoic look she has had all week is gone.

* * *

Somehow I manage to fall asleep. In the morning, I strip off my dress and lay it across my bed. I put on some simple clothes but I keep my ribbon in my hair. 

We all meet in the hallway in front of the elevator and say our farewells here. I am glad I got to speak with Katniss last night. It makes saying goodbye to her go more smoothly. Saying goodbye to Peeta and even Effie is more difficult. I hug everyone goodbye. Haymitch is stiff all the while and keeps his eyes averted to the floor. 

Finally, I lean down and wrap Rory in my arms. I whisper in his ear, “Find me.” 

I pull away before he can say anything. 

Everything after that is a blur. I hardly pay attention to the transport to the arena. It is only when Cinna greets me that I can focus again. 

The launch room is cold and sterile, almost as if it is designed to make the tribute feel uncomfortable. Then again, that is probably exactly the case. 

I share breakfast with Cinna. Every bite tastes tough and dry like chewing on cardboard but I know I need to eat as much as I can. 

Cinna helps me put on my arena clothes. The outfit is a white tank top with a thin, loose fitting long-sleeved overshirt and a lightweight fleece jacket. The dark pants are tight, especially around the ankles, and have padding on the knees. 

“These are all synthetic materials,” Cinna points out as he inspects the clothes. “That means they won’t hold in much moisture. So they should keep you dry. You might have some rain.”

“These should help you grip and hold onto things,” Cinna adds as I slide on a pair of leather half finger gloves. My shoes are form-fitting with a hard rubber sole. Cinna examines them and states, “You might be hiking a lot.” 

My hair is pulled back into a sleek high ponytail, which Cinna says will help the audience recognize me without it being too in the way. I just hope it won’t help the other tributes recognize me. 

“Here,” Cinna says, reaching for my hair. I feel him fiddle around with it before stepping back, “I think we can cheat a little.” 

Cinna holds up a compact mirror. I look into the glass and smile, my heart full. Cinna has tied my white ribbon around my hair, wrapping it around itself a few times to keep it secure instead of something noticeable like a bow or hanging strands. 

“It’s not an officially approved token. But I don’t think anyone will be too angry if you have it.” 

He takes my official token and pins the mockingjay to my jacket. “One more thing.” Cinna hands me a cup of water. “Just in case you have trouble finding anything fresh.”

I drink it down gratefully. “Thank you Cinna,” I murmur. “For everything.”

Cinna gives me a doleful look and pulls me into a tight hug. For a moment, my nerves overtake me again. I am never going to see Cinna again. I am never going to see anything outside of this arena ever again. 

“You know Madge,” Cinna tells me, “It’s my job to make a tribute shine. But an artist can only do so much without good materials.”

Somehow, that makes me smile. Cinna notices and grins. “Remember, bituminous coal. Power hidden in plain sight.”

A voice announces over the speakers that it is time. I wipe away any evidence of tears from my face and step onto the metal plate.

I have to be brave now. The one part of my interview last night that was truthful was how strong I am going to need to be. I need to be strong enough to get Rory home.

Cinna steps back from me as the glass cylinder drops into place. I force myself to stand tall as I rise up into the arena.


	10. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Let the Games begin...

* * *

****

####  **Rock (definition):**

**1\. (noun) the solid mineral material forming part of the surface of the earth.**  
**2\. (verb) cause great shock or distress to (someone or something), especially so as to weaken or destabilize them or it.**  
**3\. (noun) used to refer to someone or something that is extremely strong, reliable, or hard.**

* * *

A strong gust of wind hits me, rattling in my ears and makes my ponytail tickle the back of my neck. I feel more than see the moment I am above ground. When my eyes adjust to the bright sunlight, the first thing I see is the shine reflecting off of the golden Cornucopia. 

Next I see a rocky terrain and open sky. A lot of open sky. I study the area and see sharp drop-offs. I realize we are all on a mountain, with the Cornucopia sitting on a plateau at the top. 

My stomach drops. Escaping notice won’t be easy in an open space like this and it is impossible to tell what the rest of the mountain looks like from this high. The only other thing visible up here is thick mist surrounding the plateau. Cinna was right about wet weather with the synthetic materials.

I spot Rory and he is placed close to the mouth of the Cornucopia. That is bad luck but it could help us grab some supplies before we get out of here. There are a few objects littered across the path I need to take to reach Rory, so we might be able to escape with something valuable. We make eye contact and I nod at him. He nods back.

The countdown is nearing its end and I try to keep myself collected, breathing steadily. My thoughts are jumbled but my father’s familiar words echo through my head.

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

This time, though, another set of his words follow. 

_Madge, you can do anything._

The gong echoes throughout the arena. I leap from my podium and sprint towards Rory. I go behind the podiums, attempting to stay out of anyone else’s path. There is a small backpack on the ground, just like I noticed during the countdown. There can’t be much in it, but I snatch it up as I run by it. 

Rory and I close the distance between us, keeping to the side of the plateau. Clearly, both of us are thinking we need to get down the mountainside and away from the Cornucopia as soon as possible. 

As I reach towards Rory’s arm, I am suddenly yanked off my feet by a brute force. I shriek in surprise as the boy from District 2, Xavier, his arm wrapped around my waist, pulls me back. He furiously throws me to the ground. I wrap my arms around my head to protect it as I smash into the rocky earth. 

Xavier immediately pounces on my back and pushes me face first into the ground. I struggle to lift my face up and I make eye contact with Rory, who is standing there alone, unsure of himself, and frozen in place.

“Rory, GO!” I scream. 

I see Rory hesitate before turning and running out of view just as my face is shoved back down into the ground. I feel my cheek scrape against the rock as Xavier holds me down, his fingers digging into my skull. I flail about as Xavier snatches my arm and pulls it back painfully as he pushes my head down harder. 

Just then, I feel a rumbling, shaking sensation beneath us. Shouts of surprise ring out across the plateau. A startled Xavier loosens his grip and tilts to the side, landing on his hand for support. This gives me enough freedom to roll onto my back. I gasp for air as an earthquake vibrates across the mountain. 

Quickly, I take advantage of the distraction and knee Xavier in the groin, kicking him off of me. Whether out of surprise or from the unstable ground, Xavier is easy to knock off. He falls sideways off of me. 

I avoid the fear I feel as I force myself to get up. Xavier grabs my calf but a particularly rough tremble knocks him back again. I stumble away from Xavier. I feel Xavier make another grab at my ankle. I kick back fiercely, my foot smashing against his face and he backs off. Another violent shiver rolls him away from me. I trip as I run forward, moving quickly in a bear crawl as I desperately try to find my footing on the unsteady, shaking ground.

It is getting more difficult to see and I realize that along with the earthquake, the mist has moved in and is rapidly thickening to cloud our vision. 

I am still rather close to the Cornucopia and I wonder if I have a chance to grab something. I survey the plateau. From what I can still see the earthquake has knocked everyone off their feet and they are all distracted. Then I spot Xavier stumbling up to his knees. 

I don’t have time for anything else. I have to try to find Rory before he goes too far out of reach. Without looking back, I rush off in the direction where I last saw Rory. 

I reach the side of the plateau, pausing to peer over the edge. It is a vertical, 90 degree drop. It is only a few feet but definitely high enough you would break a bone if you jumped from the plateau. The arena gives another violent shake, jolting me. I drop to my hands and knees and scoot over the edge to climb down the side. 

I scurry down the side. Fortunately, the cliffs have good edges to grab and strong footholds. The gloves and shoes are helping me grip the rock. When I get near the ground, I jump off and keep myself moving, desperately searching for Rory. 

* * *

The farther down you go, the less rocky the terrain gets, becoming more of a woodland like a traditional arena. The ground gets less steep too, more of a slight decline than the sharp drop off by the Cornucopia. The earthquake has calmed down, but there’s still aftershocks making it difficult to move. 

When I am unable to run anymore, I pause by a large tree to catch my breath. I slide to the ground, leaning back against the trunk. I set my small backpack in my lap and it is pretty barren. Inside is a small spearhead, a needle and thread, a knit headband and a small pack of granola. 

No weapons aside from the spearhead and I doubt I can do much with that. Who knows, maybe if I outlast enough people, I can earn enough sponsors to make up what I lack. 

I had been hoping the pack would contain a canteen but no luck. Fortunately, I can hear the sound of rushing water. I follow the sounds until I spot a stream cascading down the mountain side. I am already thirsty but I keep myself from venturing out just yet. With a source of water this close to the Cornucopia, it will be a hotspot for the other tributes. 

I follow the stream downwards for a while, sticking to the trees for camouflage. When I am satisfied that no other tributes are around, I creep out and quickly drink a few handfuls of water. I dart back into the woods once I’m done. 

I travel inward for a bit, making sure the stream is always within hearing range. The fog is starting to disperse but it is still too murky to see beyond a few feet in front of me. I suppress a groan. Finding Rory seems impossible if I can barely see anything. 

I decide I can wait out the night. I can find somewhere safe to sleep and hope tomorrow is less muggy. Sleeping in a tree is probably my best option, but none of the trees around me have branches thick enough to support a body. Plus, I don’t have anything secure enough to keep me in place so I don’t fall off. 

I find a decent amount of shrubbery beside a thick tree. I slide on the warm headband and pull the hood of my fleece over my head. I crawl into the bushes, a few of the branches scratch up my face but I keep moving forward. Once I find a wide enough clearing to sit, I break off the branches of the closest shrub to make more space. It is still not much room, so I am forced to lay on my side, my legs curled up to my chest. The ground is hard and rocky. It’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. 

Then I realize how hungry I am. The adrenaline must have kept me from noticing it before. Now it is all I can think about. I open my pack of granola and nibble on the pieces. Once I start eating, I want more. I have to physically restrain myself from devouring the whole packet. For a terrible moment, guilt overwhelms me. This must be how all those people back home feel all the time. And here I am, starving after just a few hours. 

I hear the familiar tune of the national anthem playing. I edge my face up so I can peer out of the bushes, grateful that the fog has cleared so much. I look up into the sky as they begin listing the dead. 

The boy from District 3.  
The girl from District 5.  
Both tributes from District 6.  
The girl from District 7.  
The boy from District 9.  
The girl from District 11. 

I hold my breath, fearing for District 12 to show up next. But, no. Instead the anthem wraps up and the sky goes dark again. 

I feel as if I could cry as relief floods me. Good. Rory is still alive and now he knows I am still alive too. Seven gone, including the little 12-year-old girl from District 6. Pretty tame for a blood bath, all things considered. Maybe others were saved similar to how I was when the earthquake hit and the fog does provide a good cover from the others, even if it is very annoying when you are trying to locate your friend.

But Rory is safe and that is all that matters. Hopefully, I can find him soon. I tuck my pack under my head as a makeshift pillow. I am tired enough from my lack of sleep last night and the fatigue of the Games beginning that lounging around actually feels nice, almost peaceful. Soon, I drift off to sleep.


	11. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge has survived the bloodbath but can she survive the arena?

It is chilly when I wake up the next morning but there is less fog. My arm aches painfully from when I was slammed into the stony ground yesterday. I have to stretch it carefully to avoid straining it too much as I crawl out from the bushes. 

I visit the stream again and drink while I finish my pack of granola. I am not sure how close I am to the Cornucopia so I decide to head down the mountain to get some more distance. I stroll around, cautious of any noise I am making. 

After an hour or so, I am startled by the loud boom of the cannon. I stop, one foot frozen almost comically mid air. I listen carefully but I don’t hear anything else. I exhale in relief and keep moving.

Okay, so another tribute down. That leaves 16 of us. That feels like a lot of survivors for this point in the Games. Still, with someone recently dead, I should be safe for a while longer. 

My stomach rumbles unpleasantly. I have to find more food soon. I scour the woods for something-anything-to eat. I find some plants that look familiar but my mind is blanking on the edible plant station from the training center. The only ones I do recognize are definitely poisonous.

If I do obtain food I need to have a fire so I can cook. So I set off to gather some tinder. Since the whole terrain is so rocky I recognize that I have a good supply of flint to use. I spend all afternoon attempting to set a fire but by dusk I have had no luck. 

I suppress the frustrated scream I want to let loose. Instead I kick at some pebbles at my feet. Just then, something silver catches my eye. I look up and see a small parachute falling towards me. I catch it, seeing it is a small basket holding eight bread rolls and an apple. Now I have to hold back laughter. I dig into the basket and once I lift a roll out, I spot something else. 

It is a lone strawberry, sitting nestled amongst the bread. Tears well up in my eyes in realization; this is a gift from my parents! I gratefully eat the strawberry and apple first then eat three of the rolls quickly. Once again I have to stop myself from eating more. I need to make sure I have something to eat tomorrow. Still they smell so wonderful…

I hide the basket in one of the bushes and then crawl into a different collection of bushes to restrain myself. Hopefully my snares will work and I can ration food better from now on. But then again, if I can’t make a fire…

I groan, burying my head in my hood. Keeping busy all day helped distract me from my hunger but now I am just laying here in the dark and fretting over this. When I had imagined the misery of the Hunger Games, I had always pictured cruel tributes tearing people apart with swords, not this slow boredom and uncertainty. I wish I could just have access to the video feeds just to check in on Rory and make sure he is okay. That at least would settle some of my nerves.

As if on cue, the anthem begins playing for the evening. The lights up in the night reveals that the boy from District 11 died today. Relief floods me. Rory is still safe.

* * *

I am not sure what wakes me, but my eyes snap open and I suddenly feel very afraid. I don’t know what time it is but I think I can see the light from the rising sun beginning to break across the mountain. I look around, not sure why I am reacting like this. 

That is when I hear it; a low growl coming from the trees. 

I peek my head out and look around. I don’t see anything. I hear a growl again and I realize whatever it is behind my shelter. Their footsteps are heavy and are getting closer. I doubt I could escape with them so near.

I grab my pack and slide it onto my shoulders. I hear growls again. I grab a stone from the ground and slowly ease myself up into a sitting position. I can just make out the outline of two large creatures on all fours about a hundred feet away from me. 

Quickly, I toss the rock out. It clatters as it hits the ground and I see the creature’s heads swivel towards the sound. With that, I jump from my hiding place and sprint off in the opposite direction of my rock. 

As I run off, I hear roars behind me. Any distraction I had is gone now but I have a decent head start. I allow myself a quick look behind me and see two large, dark muttations gaining up on me. 

I stumble down the mountainside with the mutts right behind me. I need something to stop them, but what? 

As I am contemplating what to do, I notice the arena ground slope off into another drop off, similar to the one by the Cornucopia. I halt as I near the edge. It is not as steep as the one by the plateau but still jagged. 

If only the mutts were below me rather than above me, I could maybe escape with this high ground. But it looks like I have to climb down this side myself.

I am starting to climb over the edge when the mutts burst into the area. I get my first good look at them. It’s two gigantic mutts, with thick fur and long claws and large red eyes. They are on all fours but as they spot me, they rear back to stand on their hind legs. With a sinking feeling I recognize that they are modified bears

I set off down the drop off but I realize it is much rockier than the one by the Cornucopia which makes it much more difficult to climb. It slows me down as the growling mutts stare down at me. 

Suddenly, one of the mutts leaps from the cliff and slams into the ground beneath me, trapping me between the two. I freeze, dangling on the cliffs between the two bears. 

I swallow nervously. My hand slips on the rock I am holding on to. I can’t go up or down so I start creeping my body sideways in a vain hope that I can get away from them. As I creep to the side, the rock my hand was slipping on breaks away from the cliff. The rock tumbles down and lands on the paw of the mutt below me. The mutt howls in pain, batting the stone away.

I don’t like the idea that pops into my mind but I don’t have any other options. I swing my foot back and begin kicking at the mountainside. Pebbles drop from the side, making the mutt skittish as it tries to dart away from them. The mutt above me roars angrily and tries to swing its sharp claws at my head. Fortunately, I am out of its reach and it just swipes at air. 

I keep easing to the side, kicking at the stones I leave behind me. I step on one large stone and think I have found the best rock yet. I step off it and I almost smile when I see the craggy thing sticking out. I pull my knee to my chest and slam my foot down onto the rock. I hear a crackling sound and keep stomping on it. 

Finally, with a booming snap, the rock comes loose along with a collection of other rocks. The rocks roll down in a mini avalanche. The mutt attempts to run out of the way, but one of the stone slams onto one of its hind legs. It releases a loud howl of pain. Above me, the other mutt also howls and leaps over me to the other mutt’s side. 

I quickly scamper back up the side. Even if the mutts are good climbers there is no way they can get up here as quickly as they were able to get down. I begin searching for more rocks to push down at the mutts but they are no longer looking at me. It looks as if something else has caught their attention. 

With a piercing growl, one of the mutts races off into the woodlands of the mountain. The mutt I injured remains behind. Slowly, a hole opens up in the ground and the creature limps into the pit, which closes up over it.

I breathe a sigh of relief and wipe away the tears that had slipped out from my eyes. I force myself to stand up and amble to a tree for support.

* * *

The sun has risen now and it is daytime. That wake up call had interrupted my sleep and as the adrenaline wears off, my exhaustion hits and I am still incredibly tired. I consider going back to sleep when I realize that I have no idea where the bushes I slept in last night are. With a groan, I remember that I left my basket of bread rolls behind too. 

I set about locating the stream again so I can at least have water. Once I find it, I realize how much the chase with the mutts tired me out. I stick my head in and slurp up the water sloppily, not particularly caring about looking dignified right now.

As the day passes, I kneel by some bushes and gather some twigs and plant stems. I sit at the base of a tree, ready for a quick getaway, and create two snares. I am so grateful to Katniss right now for teaching me how to do this, but I am kicking myself for leaving the rolls behind. What is the use of sponsors if I run off without my supplies?

Once I set my snares, I pull out the spearhead and try again to make a fire until the fatigue overtakes me. I crawl into another patch of bushes just in time to fall asleep, hopeful that no more mutts chase me.

The next morning I check my snares but they are both empty. Okay, I just need to be patient-snares aren’t miraculously going to produce food for me. But my stomach is rumbling again and oh, how I miss those bread rolls.

I need to distract myself so I set about trying to make fire again. I am starting to feel pathetic over this. It has been three days and I haven’t even gotten a flame! I need to try something else. I dig through my pack and pull out my spearhead. I examine it closely and I realize that there is a chance this is made from steel. Okay, what have I got to lose? 

I start striking the spearhead against the flint. I sit there for an hour when I notice that the air is getting warmer. With a decisive flick, a spark erupts and lands in the tinder.

There it is! A small ember! I lean in on my hands and blow on the spark, helping it along until I have a small fire burning.

A delighted squeal escapes me and I immediately clap my hand over my mouth to keep quiet. But I do allow myself a little victory dance. Yes! Now if I by some miracle find food, I can cook it!

For now, I just sit beside the small fire and enjoy the warmth. I am still on high alert so I jump when I hear a sharp trilling noise. I look around and spot some birds flying above me. I want to relax but just like yesterday morning, something keeps me focused.

I listen and slowly I can just make out footsteps. But they are faint. I wonder if my mind is playing tricks on me when clear as day, I hear a voice say, “There’s someone over here!”


	12. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge has faced the elements, now she has to face the other tributes.

As I hear the footsteps closing in, I have just enough time to kick dirt and stone onto my fire to douse it. I grab my pack and dive behind the largest bush around. I curl up under it into the fetal position and go silent, as the voices get louder.

“Are you sure you saw something?”

“I could have sworn-”

“No, there was smoke. You saw it.”

“Look, over there!”

I silently curse as they see the remains of my fire. I hear them all get closer but I don’t dare move. 

“Someone was here.”

“It’s still smoking. Someone just put it out.”

They start scoping out the area and I prepare for them to spot me at any moment. 

“They couldn’t have gotten far.”

“Who do you think it was?”

“Do you think it might be Truss?”

“Could be.”

I rack my mind for who Truss could be but I can’t place the name.

“Do you think it could have been-”

“I don’t think they could’ve beat us here.”

I stifle a gasp as I recognize the voice. I will myself to move slightly and see Rory standing right by me. 

I sigh in relief. “Rory!”

Rory jumps and spins around. “Madge?”

I creep out of the bush. “You’re okay!”

Rory beams and yells to the others, “Guys, I found her! It’s Madge.”

I’m so relieved to see Rory that when he reaches me I scoop him up and hug him tight. He squirms in my arms. “Madge, not in front of everybody!”

I let him go as I notice the various other people around us. I am surprised to see four other tributes. Foster is there and so is Sprig along with the girl from his district and the girl from District 10.

“Madge!” Sprig calls out as he walks over to us. I notice he is limping and the bottom of one of his pant legs is bloody.

“You alone?” asks Foster, following Sprig.

I nod. “Yes.”

The District 10 girl’s eyes are wide with worry. “Have you seen any sign of Truss?”

“Truss?”

“The boy from my district.”

I think for a moment and try to recall the boy from District 10. Then I remember. District 10, the cousins.

I shake my head sympathetically. “Sorry, no.” 

The District 10 girl sighs in disappointment. She blows out a puff of air and her thick strawberry blond bangs fly up before she sits down next to a tree.

I turn to Rory. “I thought you were the Careers.”

Rory stands proudly. “No. We are our own alliance this year. We’ve got Seven and Eight and Ten and now both from Twelve!”

I smile at his enthusiasm.

“Have you got any supplies?” The District 8 girl asks, racing up next to Sprig.

“Not much, just one bag.” I say, lifting up my pack to show them. 

“Okay,” Foster says, surveying the area. “How ‘bout we get this fire going again? It’s all set up.”

“We have some rabbits,” says the District 10 girl, holding one of them up. “Plus, we gathered some plants. Foster managed to grab some bread.”

She nods over to Foster who takes biscuits out from a pack.

“I gathered some plants too,” I say, opening my pack. “But I wasn’t sure what most of them were so I didn’t eat them.”

“I can help with that,” says Rory. I begin to pull them out and he separates the good from the bad. 

“So,” I ask, “How did this alliance come to be?”

“Well,” says Rory, “I was alone for a bit before I ran into Sprig. He hurt his leg climbing down the rocks so he couldn’t move much. We decided to team up and then we ran into Paisley.” Rory nods over to the District 8 girl.

I frown. This sounds as if Rory stayed near the top of the mountain for awhile, which seems like a dumb move. I hope he wasn’t waiting for me to find him. He was extremely lucky he ran into Sprig and not a Career. 

Paisley plops down next to Rory and me, copying Rory as she sorts her plants. Rory hands me some edible leaves. I gobble them down gratefully. 

“Then we ran into Foster and Heather,” Rory continues, nodding over to Foster and the District 10 girl, who are preparing the fire. “They already had an alliance so we all just joined up. We figured we’d all survive longer together and we might learn some stuff before we have to split up. We want to try to outlast the Careers.”

I nod but all I think of is how this does not sound like a good plan at all. As horrible as the Careers are, they are at least the hunters the Games require so we don’t have to do it. I would much rather be killed by an enemy than an ally. 

But in order to help Rory, I need to stick with him and his new alliance. Besides, they will probably be much better help to him than I could ever be. Clearly, they have been eating. 

I tell Rory the few other supplies I received in my pack. Sprig asks if he can have my needle and thread. I pass it over to him and Paisley, who accept it with excitement. 

“What else did you guys get?” I ask.

“Oh, Heather and Foster got loads of supplies from the Cornucopia.” Rory prattles, not looking up from the plants. 

“Really? How much stuff?”

Foster shrugs, working on the fire with Heather. “Couple packs. We got a nice amount of knives.”

A “nice amount of knives” turns out to be four, which we take turns using for our various tasks as we prepare our food. 

Heather and Rory are the most efficient with the animals and they skin the rabbits easily. Foster is good at tending the fire and the small kindling I had grows to a decent campfire.

Someone managed to grab a threadbare first aid kit, which Paisley uses to check on Sprig’s leg. When Sprig rolls his pant leg up, we get a good look at the bloody mess. He had been climbing down the side of the drop off by the Cornucopia when the earthquake first hit. It had knocked him off and damaged his calf really bad. 

Paisley looks disturbed as she examines the leg. I ask her if she’s all right. 

“Yeah, I just, ugh, stuff like this grosses me out.” Paisley says with a shake of her head. She adds, trying to lighten the mood as she points at the rabbits, “It’s still better than skinning those.”

Sprig agrees with Paisley enthusiastically. “I don’t know how you all do that!”

Heather shrugs and says dismissively. “It’s nothing. It’s an animal. Animals die and we eat them. Not much more to it.”

Paisley and Sprig look unconvinced but I know they are just unused to how other districts work. The big open landscapes of District 10 are so different from the crowded factories of District 8 or even the cramped darkness of District 12. 

For a moment, I ponder just how different the other districts are to District 12. Back home, not many people work in the mines or our industry. The other districts put everyone to work, which is obvious when you see Sprig and Paisley’s joy at getting a needle or Heather skillfully butchering the rabbit. 

I study Heather for a moment. She looks exhausted. Her sharp nose has a large cut across it and her eyes are bloodshot. Her bangs hang limply on her forehead with wisps of her reddish hair falling out of her high bun. I wonder what she is feeling. How it must feel to have a family member here with you. I look over at Rory and a lump settles in my stomach. What if it comes down to us?

I shake my head and look away from everyone. I doubt the odds are that much not in our favor.

* * *

We cook and eat a rabbit. I devour it greedily and it might just be the best meal I have ever had. Rory finds it hilarious, cackling as he shares his water canteen with me. 

We only split up when we need to relieve ourselves. Us girls go out into the forest and take turns while the other two keep watch, ensuring that we are not snuck up on or that the other girl doesn’t betray us. The boys do the same when they need to go. 

That night, it is decided that two people will be put on watch while the others sleep. It’s unspoken that District partners won’t keep watch together, so I don’t get a moment alone with Rory. 

Foster and I get put on the first watch and I am handed a knife. It doesn’t take long for the others to fall asleep, although Heather holds out for a while. 

Foster and I sit in silence and every sound of nature echoes around us. Foster has a flashlight that he twirls in his hands, his knife sitting in his lap. 

“So…a mayor’s daughter?”

I look over at Foster in surprise. “Yes.” 

“What’d your dad do to piss off the president?”

“What? Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing!”

“So you really did get reaped then?”

“Of course. I have to put my name in there the same as everyone else.”

Foster smiles and tousles his dark hair. His tanned, tawny skin is highlighted in the moonlight. “I guess I always figured y’all got special privileges or something.”

I hesitate because ugh, I do not want to get into a discussion about class, especially when I’m trying to navigate the Games, before answering him. 

“I suppose we have some…privileges, yes, but in the end I live in the districts, same as everyone else.”

Foster smiles again, “You certainly aren’t as stuck-up as I figured a mayor’s kid would be.”

“…Thank you, I suppose.”

“That was more of an insult to my mayor’s kids,” Foster says with a laugh, playing with his knife absentmindedly. “She has these twins that just...drive me nuts really. It’s kind of comforting to know there’s a chance they might get reaped one day too.”

I grin. 

“I recognized you, you know,” Foster says abruptly. “From last year. When they were interviewing Katniss and Peeta’s friends and family.”

“Really?” I ask, surprised. I only had one interview last year and it didn’t get played nearly as much as the other’s interviews. People were far more interested in Prim and Gale than me. Plus, I had that startled look on my face Effie tried to rid me of the whole time.

Foster laughs. “He’ll kill me for telling you this, but my friend Allon has the biggest crush on you.”

“What?” I gasp. “He does not!”

“He does. He complained a whole week ‘bout how District Twelve lucked out and got all the pretty girls while all we got was trees.”

“I bet he was thrilled when I got reaped then. Now I’m on TV all the time, and in sparkly dresses to boot.”

“I’m sure he was pissed ‘bout you planting a kiss on Caesar Flickerman though.”

I groan and bury my head in my hands, “Oh no, don’t remind me of that.”

“What?” Foster teases. “Scared of District One getting jealous?”

“Oh, hush up about that! He was not flirting.”

“He definitely was. C’mon, I’m sure a girl like you can tell when a boy’s hitting on her.”

“You’re right, I can, so I know that Gusto was not flirting with me.”

“Okay, so how many boys are flirting with you back in Twelve?” Foster says with a laugh, “Who does Allon need to be jealous of?”

I flush, grateful that it is too dark for Foster to see. “I mean...no one.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s say you win, okay? Who back home is gonna be worshipping at your feet?”

I really don’t want to talk about this anymore. “Look, that’s silly. It’s not like I’m going home anyway.”

I didn’t mean to say that last sentence and I instantly regret it. Foster looks taken aback. “Oh, hey, I didn’t mean-”

“No, no, no, it’s okay-”

“Look, Madge, I didn’t mean-”

I just hold up my hand and we both stop babbling. I inhale deeply then say, “It’s okay, Foster.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It really is fine.” I reassure him again. I don’t know why, but Foster is giving me such an earnest look but I find myself confessing to him, “Because, I know I am going to die.”

Foster looks at me, unsure of what to say. 

“I figured I was pretty much doomed anyway, the moment I was reaped.” I elaborate, “But when Rory was reaped, I knew I wasn’t going to come home. If I don’t go home…well, people might be upset but there’s no great loss in the world. But Rory…Rory has a family who not only loves him but their lives would change if he won. If I won, my life wouldn’t change. I would just live in Victor’s Village instead of my own house.”

Foster looks up at the sky in contemplation. “The kid is very young…”

“Rory’s a good kid and he is resourceful and kind and he could make a difference. And I like to think I am making a difference by helping him win.”

Foster keeps looking at the sky. Then he states, “I’m gonna make a difference too.”

I tilt my head in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Foster looks back at me and says, “I’m gonna help make sure Rory wins too.”


	13. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge is in an alliance but how much can she trust the other tributes?

I don’t trust Foster. I don’t.

Well, okay, maybe I do. A little bit. Just enough to know I can sleep near him without worrying about him slitting my throat in my sleep.

But can I trust him with Rory?

I had asked him last night why he was interested in helping me but a cannon had gone off, putting us on guard. Nothing else happened but the sound had woken Heather up and she insisted it was time to switch watch duty. Foster had moved away from me and had climbed into his sleeping bag.

Since then, I have not had a moment alone with Foster. But I haven’t been able to stop thinking about our conversation last night. I mean, what interest could he have in protecting Rory? But if he’s genuine, I could really use all the help I can get. 

Being in an alliance has made everything so much better. The other tributes have been taking good care of Rory and having him by my side has alleviated my stress about him. Together, we decide to continue down the mountain side. 

The rocks and woodland have made it difficult to see what is at the bottom, but staying at the same location with the other tributes is not appealing. Foster is the only one in our group I feel we need to worry about standing out. Sprig and Heather are not much taller than me and, of course, Rory is small. Paisley is kind of tall, but nothing compared to Foster.

We march along, sticking close together as we maneuver our way through the steepness of the mountain side. It is especially foggy today so we stay close to the stream and use it to guide us. The further down you go, the wider the stream gets. By mid afternoon, we find another sharp drop-off on the side like the one at the top by the Cornucopia. The stream makes it easier to climb down the escarpment as it is not a vertical drop like the one by the plateau. At the bottom, the stream leads into a lake and the ground feels flat.

As the fog lifts up, we can all start to make out the rest of the area. The arena spreads out beyond the mountain and lake into flat grassland. The landscape is sparse with only a few trees or plants, meaning we would need to climb back into the woodlands on the mountain for coverage. For now, we set up between the rocky base and the lake’s edge. 

Foster and Rory hoist themselves back up the rocks to go hunting in the forest. I watch them go worriedly, but I tell myself Rory is fine. I won’t be much help hunting and we need food. 

I decide to gather some of the thick grass from the plain and start making a net. Heather sets up the fire and groans loudly. Heather’s bun has come loose and stray hair keeps flying in her way as she attempts to light a flame. 

“Here,” Paisley gestures Heather over to her. “Let’s take care of this before you set yourself on fire.”

Heather looks reluctant but sits down beside Paisley, who starts braiding Heather’s hair. She pulls Heather’s strands back into a tight, sturdy plait. 

Paisley’s own hair has been pulled back into two side braids that are looped around to look like links in a chain. It’s both Capitol approved and keeps her thick, dark hair out of her face. Whoever did her hair knows their stuff. 

I see Paisley has agile fingers like me and ask her to help me with the net. I show her my pattern and she picks it up quickly. Sprig joins us and he also has a knack for it. I compliment the two as we work.

“Oh this is nothing,” Sprig responds. 

Paisley adds, “Weaving and braiding compared to those guys.”

Paisley juts her chin out and I see Rory returning from the hunt with what looks like a bird. Rory announces it’s groosling and Heather pounces on it and immediately begins plucking its feathers. 

“Foster stayed behind to try to catch more,” Rory tells Heather, who acknowledges him with a grunt.

“Well, you still need weaving and braiding,” I add hesitantly, resuming my conversation with Sprig and Paisley. “We can use this net to help us hunt too.”

“Yeah, true, it’s just like being back home for us.” Sprig looks over at Paisley, who nods in agreement. Then Paisley smiles and makes a motion with her hands. Sprig returns her grin and responds with his own hand signal. 

“What’s that?” Rory asks them.

“It’s sign language,” Paisley tells him. “It’s how to talk when you can’t hear. The factories are so loud back home so people use this to communicate over the floor.” 

“Yeah, and a lot of people lose their hearing over time working there, so it’s a good skill to have.” Sprig adds.

“What are you guys saying?” Rory asks eagerly. 

Sprig and Paisley begin teaching us some basic signs. They show us the alphabet with our fingers, helping Rory position his hands correctly. 

After a half hour, Heather seems annoyed. “Are you guys just going to sit there and flap your hands around or are you going to do anything?”

We all mumble apologies and return to our net. Once Heather’s back is turned, Rory fingerspells ‘wet blanket’. That makes Sprig snort and laugh heartily, which of course just makes Heather more huffy, so Rory gets up and helps her prepare the bird. 

The two begin cooking around sunset and Foster returns with another groosling and a squirrel. We set the net aside and attempt to help Sprig out with his damaged leg, which has been hurting since the climb down. Paisley is a better help with this than since one of her neighbors has a twisted club foot. I give up helping them out and tend the fire and cook as Heather and Rory prepare Foster’s catch. 

The groosling is delicious and again it’s difficult not to hurriedly gobble down every edible thing in sight. I force myself to eat slowly and savor what I have. Still, I feel hungry even after the bird and my side dish of plant leaves. 

It has been getting colder and colder every night and we agree to keep the fire going for as long as we can. When the anthem plays, we learn that the boy from District 4 was the one who died last night. The reminder of the Games sobers us and we sit silently beside the crackling fire.

I lean my head back, gazing up at the tall, imposing mountain. It’s bizarre to think we started out on top of that thing. 

“This place reminds me of that song,” I tell Rory. “You know, _Great High Mountain_? With the Cornucopia on top.”

“Oh yeah!” Rory says in realization. “Yeah, I totally see it now. Especially with the stream.” 

“What’s the song?” Paisley asks.

“It’s this song about climbing this mountain so you can receive the water of life,” Rory informs him.

“Like the fountain of youth?” Foster asks. 

Rory and I share a quizzical glance. Neither of us know what that is, so Rory shrugs. “I dunno. It’s just about making it to the top so you can drink.”

“Well, that’s not all.” I add, “It’s about having to go through difficult trials to earn your reward. Then helping others along.”

“What?” Sprig tilts his head. “What’s that about?”

“It’s one of those old folk songs, they all have a message.”

“How does it go?” Sprig asks. “Can you sing it.”

I feel my cheeks flush red. “Oh no, I don’t think so.”

But Sprig asks again, and Paisley echoes him. Rory nods encouragingly, so I sigh. “Okay, well, I mean, if you want.”

I clear my throat and quietly begin to sing. I’m not a strong singer, but I know the tune well enough to carry myself through.

_Once I stood at the foot of a great high mountain  
That I wanted so much to climb  
And on top of this mountain was a beautiful fountain  
That flows with the water of life_

__

__

_I fell down on my knees at the foot of this mountain  
I cried, "O Lord what must I do?  
I want to climb this mountain, I want to drink from this fountain  
That flows so clear in my view_

Rory begins to hesitantly sing along with me. I jostle him playfully until he starts to sing out more clearly.

_Then I heard a sweet voice from the top of this mountain  
Saying, "Child put your hand in mine"  
I started climbing slowly, "Watch your steps at the edges  
And take one step at a time”  
I started climbing upward taking one step at a time  
The higher I got the harder I climbed_

Both Rory and I are singing strongly together, which boosts my esteem into the final verse.

_I'm still climbing upward and my journey's almost ended  
I'm nearing the top and you ought to see the view  
Oh the water flows freely, there's enough to make you free  
So friend if you're thirsty climb this mountain with me_

With the final line, I jovially throw my arm around Rory’s shoulder. He pushes me off but we are both laughing.

“Some friend you are!” I mock glare at him. “I offer the fountain water to you and you knock me off.”

Rory shrugs impishly. I stretch my arms and sigh. “I haven’t heard that song since the last folk dance in town.”

Rory nods. “I haven’t heard it in forever! I’ve barely heard any songs since-”

Rory cuts himself off and I know why. We haven’t had any dances in the District since the increase of peacekeepers this past year. Once Gale was publicly whipped, no one risked it. Not that anyone felt like celebrating anyway. 

“Well,” I interject, hoping to cheer Rory up, “There could be some celebrations in the square right now. I bet your whole family is dancing with everyone.”

“You guys dance?” Heather asks.

“Of course I dance,” I say proudly. “Everyone in District Twelve dances.” 

“Is that true, Rory?” asks Paisley with a big smile. Rory nods sheepishly, which makes us all chuckle. 

“What do you say, Rory?” I ask him teasingly. “Want to give these folks a show?”

He shoots me an alarmed look, which just makes me more insistent. 

“Come on,” I urge, pulling Rory on his feet. He sighs as we face each other.

I jokingly pull at the bottom of my over shirt, pretending it’s a skirt, and curtsy to Rory. He grabs the bottom of his shirt and mimics me, making all of us laugh.

We begin dancing a quick and energetic reel. About halfway through, Rory grabs ahold of my arm and pulls me into a Do Si Do, which startles a laugh out of me as my ponytail whips behind me.

Sprig stands up and asks if he can cut in. Rory tells him yes quickly, rushing back to his spot on the ground. Paisley shakes her head at him. 

I curtsy again while Sprig gives an exaggerated bow. I give him a quick tutorial on one of the simpler partner dances. We begin dancing while I talk the steps aloud.

“Sashay around your partner. Twirl so you’re facing to face again. Alright, now grab hands. Shuffle to the side and clap...”

Paisley asks if she can join us, so I give Rory a meaningful look. He obeys, hopping to his feet. He and Paisley join us and we begin a more complex dance, one with more turns and partner swaps. 

Sprig’s injured leg starts acting up so Foster takes his place as my partner. From the ground, Sprig starts a beat by slapping his good knee rhythmically. Heather watches us with no desire to join in, but she has the ghost of a smile on her face. 

As I shuffle along with Foster, he leans down and tells me quietly, “You’re good with him.”

“What?”

“The kid.” Foster nods over to Rory as he Do Si Dos with Paisley. “You’re good at cheering him up. It’s like back in training.”

I remember the other tributes staring at us when I lifted Rory up at the center. Foster must have been watching that. 

I want to ask Foster more but Heather declares we need to put out the fire and go to bed. We douse the fire, all of us exhilarated and in good spirits from the dance. I attempt to be put on watch with Foster again so we could get a chance to talk, but I am paired with Paisley instead. But as I watch Rory fall asleep, I realize I don’t feel any fear of Foster laying beside him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The song is _Great High Mountain_ , a traditional Appalachian folk song. I personally really like Jack White's version for the _Cold Mountain_ soundtrack.


	14. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge and her alliance work together as the Arena challenges them.

The next morning I wake up to the boom of the cannon. I jerk up, knocking into Rory sleeping beside me. I search the area frantically. I count the faces around me and breathe a sigh of relief. We are all still here. 

“What’s goin’ on?” A sleepy Rory mumbles. 

Sprig and Heather are standing, still on guard. Sprig turns to us and says, “I didn’t notice anything before the cannon. Did you?”

Heather shakes her head, her knife still at the ready. A beat passes but nothing else happens. Just as Heather relaxes and starts to sit back down, another cannon rings out. 

Well, there is no falling back asleep now. As the morning passes, the weather is foggy again and it is probably the coldest day we have had in the arena. We need a fire but keeping it lit is difficult with the damp air.

“I’m gonna climb up and check on my snares. I set two up yesterday.” Foster announces. Rory offers to go with him again.

“Rory, take this.” I slide off my knit headband and hand it to Rory. It will be cold away from our fire.

Foster and Rory aren’t gone long and they return with only one squirrel. 

“Is that all?” Heather asks incredulously.

Foster sighs. “My traps aren’t very good. And it’s still too foggy to try to hunt normal.”

Heather glares at the squirrel with a sour expression. I volunteer to make some more snares and I collect more long blades of grass from the plain. Sprig and Paisley join me and we huddle together as we work.

The rest of the day is uneventful. The wind picks up, making it more difficult to keep the fire going. We crowd around it, trying to use our bodies as shields. We eat our leftover groosling, which has a slimy texture now and does not taste very good.

Heather grumbles. “We have no way to keep food fresh. It’ll all rot and be useless. We can’t even make soup or anything like that without any bowls or pots.”

She turns to Foster and announces, “We need another good hunting day.”

“I know.”

“Can you hunt if the weather is bad again?”

“We’ll hunt again tomorrow. No matter what.” Foster tells her resolutely.

An uncomfortable pause lingers between our group. Everything Heather is saying is true but her words are bringing the mood down. 

Foster looks particularly despondent, as if he blames himself. I tell him, “You can set up our snares tomorrow. Plus, we finished the net this morning, so we can try using that too.”

Foster nods, looking unconvinced. I decide to change the subject. “You know, I’m trying to picture our mentors working together. I can only imagine how well that is going.”

Rory snorts. “What, Haymitch working with other people? I’m sure that’s amazing.”

“Well, Peeta’s probably getting along with everyone. Katniss could be-”

“Katniss Everdeen!” Paisley cuts in excitedly, her gap-toothed smile bright. “Is she really your mentor?”

I feel my cheeks flush at her exclamation. I pretend I’m cold and rub my hands against my face for warmth as I answer her. “Yes. She’s working with Peeta and Haymitch Abernathy right now.”

Paisley leans in eagerly. “She’s amazing. What’s it like having her as your mentor?”

“Weird,” I admit. “I’m friends with Katniss and Peeta. I went to school with them, we’re in the same grade.”

Paisley and Sprig share an excited glance. It’s strange to see how interested the others are in Katniss. Even after the Games, she has always felt like the same girl I ate lunch with at school.

“You’re friends with both of them, huh? That’s why you were interviewed,” Foster says with a wry smile. I smirk at him as I recall his story about recognizing me from last year.

“It must be weird for you too Rory, being her cousin and all.” I add, remembering the lie about the Hawthornes being Katniss’s family.  
“It will be both of your mentors too,” I gesture to Sprig and Paisley. The two exchange another glance and smile. 

Sprig chuckles. “My guy couldn’t even remember our escort’s name after how many years?”

“They work okay together though,” Paisley mentions, nudging Sprig. “Cecilia can whip him into shape when she wants to.”

“They might be working with both of my mentors too,” Foster adds.

“Both?” Paisley asks him with a confused look.

“Well my partner...yeah,” Foster shrugs uncomfortably. “So it could be my mentor plus my partner’s mentor, Johanna Mason.”

I suppress a shudder. I remember Johanna Mason. She has to be one of the most vivid memories I have of watching the Games. It was certainly one of the first times I was viscerally scared of what I was seeing on my television screen. 

“How about your mentors?” Rory asks Heather. 

Heather’s head snaps up and she gives Rory an icy look. “Mentor. Just one. Truss’s mentor will be busy taking care of him.”

I feel a wave of sympathy for Heather. She can be rude and a little annoying but she is clearly anxious about her cousin. I know the feeling from when I was separated from Rory. I was lucky enough to find him but Heather has been in limbo for days now.

That night as the anthem plays, it is revealed that the girls from District 3 and District 9 were the ones who died this morning. We are down to 13 tributes now. Almost half of the tributes are gone and we have been doing pretty well for ourselves in our alliance. Maybe the odds are in our favor after all.

* * *

Once again, I am jolted awake by a loud sound. This time, a deep, grumbling noise reverberates around me. I sit up and hear confused shouts from the others. The ground is unsteady as it convulses under us. I recognize the sensation just as Sprig shouts, “It’s another earthquake!” 

I leap to my feet, shouldering on my pack as I search for Rory. It is still nighttime and it is difficult to see in the dark. Luckily, Rory was on guard and he has the flashlight. He flicks the flashlight on and I rush to his side. I can make out Foster helping Sprig stand on his good leg while Heather sweeps everything into her bag. 

Rory and I back away and I am surprised that the ground feels surprisingly stable. The echoing noise is still coming from above us so maybe only the mountain is being affected? 

Suddenly, Rory gasps loudly. He shines his light up the mountain and I clearly see dozens of large boulders rolling down the mountainside towards us. 

I recall the mutts chasing me, when I had been caught between the two. How I had kicked those rocks down at them...

It’s not an earthquake, it's an avalanche.

“Move over! Move!” I shout out. We all sprint to the side to get out of their path. 

“Some great high mountain,” Heather mutters. 

I glare at her. Is she implying the song caused this? 

“There’s still too much rock in this area,” Foster points out. “We need to get away from here.”

Rory shouts and points up. The boulders have swerved direction and are headed right at us again. 

“Go!” Foster bellows. 

Before we can move, the boulders crash around us, their weight smashing into the ground with such force that everyone is knocked off their feet. I feel the air whip around me as some of the boulders continue rolling along. 

I stand up and grab Rory’s arm. I help him up, hurriedly asking if he’s all right. He answers yes, just as a piercing scream interrupts us. 

It’s Paisley. A boulder has rolled onto her, pinning her midsection to the floor. She is face down in the ground, her hands cradling her head as she screams out again. Sprig yells her name as she wails in agony. 

Fortunately, the mountain steadies and we have a moment to collect ourselves from the shock. We race over to Paisley, unsure of how to help her as she sobs in pain. 

“What can we do?” Sprig asks desperately. 

I have no idea and I can hardly think over the avalanche around us. The boulder is too massive and heavy to lift off of Paisley. We don’t have much time to do anything else.

Foster, however, looks determined. “Okay, here’s what we can do. Four of us can push against the boulder to roll it off her. Then someone can pull her out-” 

“Heather, NO!”

Foster is cut off by Rory shouting. We look over and see Rory’s flashlight illuminating Heather as she kneels beside Paisley. Her arm is raised in the air and a rock is clenched in her fist.

We all yell in horror as Heather swings her arm down and bashes in Paisley’s head. 

“Paisley! Paisley!” Sprig is keening desperately as Heather keeps pummeling Paisley’s skull again and again. The boom of the cannon is barely audible over the rockslide around us.

Sprig’s legs give out from under him and he collapses to the ground. I drop to my knees next to him and wrap my arms around him. Sprig clutches my arm desperately as he sobs. I look around at the others. Foster looks furious and Rory looks shell-shocked. Heather’s face goes blank as she gets up from her knees, tossing the bloody rock aside.

Just then, the loudest rumble yet echoes through the arena. The avalanche is not over.

“There’s more boulders!” I shout out. “We have to get out of here!”

My words seem to jolt everyone back to the situation at hand. Foster points to a tree in the plain. “Everyone head on over to that tree. We should be out of range.”

Rory and Heather sprint off towards the tree. I try to help Sprig up but he pushes against me.

“Sprig! We have to move.” 

“No! Not without her!” 

“Sprig,” I try again. “Sprig, I’m so sorry-”

“NO!” Sprig’s cries are drowned out as more boulders roll down towards us. Foster grabs Sprig’s arm and hoists Sprig up to his feet.

“Move! Now!” Foster shouts as he shoulders Sprig. We race out into the grassland, Rory and Heather already ahead of us at the tree. Once we reach them, Foster drops his hold on Sprig, who collapses to his knees. All of us are breathing heavily, Foster with his hands on his knees. After a pause, Foster stands at his full height and scowls at Heather.

“What did you do?” Foster roars furiously, charging at Heather. Heather looks nervous, but holds her ground, staring up at Foster.

“There was no point in keeping her alive. She was a goner,” Heather states. 

“You don’t know that!” Sprig bawls, his voice cracking.

Heather glares at him. “Yes, I do. When an animal gets a lame leg, you don’t let it keep trying to walk. You kill it.”

“She wasn’t an animal,” Rory yells at her, still looking horrified. 

“She was in pain and I ended it!” Heather shouts, starting to look upset. 

“You had no right to do that without-” Foster is cut off by an indignant Heather.

“It’s the Hunger Games!” Heather yells. “What difference does it make if she died today instead of tomorrow?”

“She’s right,” I say. Everyone looks at me in surprise. Below me, Sprig cringes away.

“There’s no way she could have lived after that,” I continue. “Even if her body survived that, she would have bled out before we could save her. We couldn’t just stay there discussing what to do when more boulders were coming at us.”

“Exactly,” says Heather, looking relieved at my support. “There’s no sense of putting ourselves in danger for her.”

I grimace. Heather was not helping her case.

I look over at Foster. He meets my gaze and sighs. I can tell he agrees with us despite not wanting to.

“Fine, yeah.” Foster says coldly. He turns to Heather again and adds, “But don’t you ever do something like that again, got it? We need to work together to get through this. We can’t turn on each other like that.”

Heather doesn’t look convinced but she nods. Foster kneels next to Sprig and murmurs, “Look, I’m sorry but-”

Sprig pushes Foster away and crawls to the tree. He burrows his head against the trunk and weeps. 

Foster watches him forlornly for a moment. He turns back to the rest of us and says, “Let’s stay here tonight. But we can’t stay here at the base of the mountain. It’s too easy a target.”

“We should climb back up. Keeping higher ground might be our best chance to avoid them.” I say, thinking of the mutts again. I had only survived from having higher ground. 

The others mumble in agreement and we slump down around the tree. I’m exhausted as my adrenaline rush wears off but I am wide awake. No one in our group sleeps that night. We just sit around the tree and listen to the sounds of falling rocks and Sprig’s cries.


	15. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tensions are high between the alliance following the previous night's avalanche.

By the time the aftershocks of the avalanche are finished, the sun has risen. No one speaks as we slowly get up. The silence is somehow even worse than the sound of the rock slide. 

Gradually, we begin talking again. Sprig ran out of tears hours ago but breathed heavily the rest of the night. Now he is blank faced and doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. Foster has a scowl on his face and I can feel the fury radiating off of him. Heather is smart enough to leave them be.

Rory is the one I am worried about though. He has a thousand yard stare on his face and seems distracted as we pack up.

“Are you okay?” I ask, double checking on Rory. He waves me off tiredly.

The rest of us quietly converse and agree to start our climb back up the mountain. We go around the other side of the stream so we don’t have to pass through our old campsite. 

It is much warmer today and luckily the fog has lifted, which helps us see where we are going as we start climbing back up the cliff side. Poor Sprig is already so exhausted and the trek back up is painful on his injured leg. Foster stays beside him throughout it all, helping shoulder his weight again.

Once we are back over the sharp drop off and in the woodland, we file into a line and march on. Heather leads the way, striding purposefully as she ignores the tension between everyone. I’m glad she’s up front because we would all be suspicious of her behind us; none of us want to be looking over our shoulder the whole hike.

By unspoken agreement, we keep Sprig as far away from Heather as possible and he and Foster bring up the rear. Rory and I walk side by side in between them. It is a quiet walk and my mind goes deep in thought.

I feel like an idiot. I let myself get comfortable when I should have been on my toes. Aside from being chased by the mutts, the Games have not felt too dangerous to me. Once I joined with the alliance, I had food and supplies and company. 

Paisley’s death had been a shocking return to reality. This is not some fun little camping trip. This is the Hunger Games. I will never be able to protect Rory if I let my guard down again. Especially now that Heather has proved what she is capable of. 

In front of me, Heather runs a hand through her bangs, jostling her hair over her shoulder. I find myself staring at her hair. Just a couple of days ago, Paisley had styled those braids for her. The horrible memory of Heather smashing Paisley’s head in resurfaces.

Despite myself, I still agree with Heather. I just wish she hadn’t been so callous. Paisley deserved better than Heather’s gruesome methods. Sprig was always going to be upset over Paisley’s death but if she had tried to be more humane, Rory and Foster might not be so angry with her right now. 

Really, though, I miss Paisley. I miss her beaming, constant smile that seemed to put everyone in a better mood. I only knew her a few days but her absence feels heavier than the backpack on my shoulders. 

I don’t know how long we hike, but we reach a somewhat flat stretch of ground and Foster declares it a good spot to make camp. It feels almost jarring to hear someone speak again after this long day of silence.

As we set up our camp, Rory softly reminds us that we need food. We had all agreed to leave behind all the snares and traps we set up and made yesterday because we figured they had probably been destroyed by the rock slide crashing through them.

I can tell that no one has the energy to hunt today so I suggest gathering some plants. Rory and I set out together. I do not want to leave Foster and Sprig alone with Heather but I especially do not want Rory taking off by himself (or going out with Heather). 

Rory is a natural and finds some edible wood sorrel. We stoop over to gather them into his pack. As we work, a cannon goes off.

Rory’s snaps to attention and I instinctively grab his hand. After a few moments, I don’t notice anything but Rory is still looking around frantically. I squeeze his hand reassuringly. 

“It was probably someone who was injured during the avalanche,” I tell him gently. 

Rory nods but looks preoccupied as we return to the plants. I know what he is thinking. He is wondering if Heather killed Foster or Sprig. To be honest, I’m worried about the opposite and that one of them killed her. Knowing them they might not have wanted to kill anyone in front of Rory.

When we return to the camp, everything is exactly as we left it. Rory’s shoulders loosen in relief. I lay a hand on his shoulder but he shrugs me off and walks away.

I was probably right that someone just succumbed to their injuries from last night. Really, it reinforces that Heather had been right and had saved Paisley from a drawn out, painful death. But I feel worse than ever.

* * *

We are all quiet again as we eat. This silence is much worse than our hike today. It is far more uncomfortable with us all just sitting here and avoiding eye contact. 

Sprig is sitting as far from Heather as he can, turned sideways to literally give her a cold shoulder. He picks at his plant leaves, looking ill at the thought of eating. Heather, meanwhile, looks high-strung as she tries too hard to appear unfazed by the situation.

I look between Sprig and Heather and my mind recalls the news footage I have seen of the districts in Papa’s office. I think of the small, industrial District 8 alongside the vast plains of District 10. They seem so opposite of one another but in a way they are two sides of the same coin.

On the surface, District 8 is all cold and unfeeling machinery, but the cramped quarters brought all their citizens together into a tight-knit community where everyone depends and cares for one another. District 10, meanwhile, seems lively and free but Heather has demonstrated the detachment one needs to be around death all day. But she still cares about people; she was trying to help Paisley in her own way.

Right there I decide that I need to salvage this. This alliance will fall apart if we stay like this any longer. Tomorrow I need to make sure Sprig and Heather can see from the other person’s point of view. 

After we finish eating, Sprig shuffles away from us. He curls up and quickly falls asleep. Fortunately, he is still asleep when the anthem plays that evening, so he does not have to see Paisley’s death announced in the sky. The anthem also reveals the death of both of the tributes from District 2 along with the boy from District 5. The avalanche had been extremely effective at killing us. 

“I wonder if there will be any more earthquakes or avalanches. Do you think they will keep using that method?” I ask the others.

Rory shrugs with little energy and mumbles, “Probably.”

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Heather disagrees. “The Gamemakers will want to think up more creative ways as we go forward.”

“No.” Foster states firmly. “Dying from rocks isn’t that exciting. The goal is to push us together and get us to kill each other. ” 

Another silence lingers uncomfortably as Heather ignores Foster’s implication.

* * *

The next day is more of the same with long stretches of silence and only speaking up about necessary information. I try to speak up and start conversations but I get little response. 

Now that we are back in the forest on the mountain, we have such easy access to plants that we don’t need to worry too much about hunting. But I feel Sprig needs something else to focus on, so I ask him to help me make some snares again. 

We work side by side on the ground. We don’t have access to the long grass from the plains anymore so we use twigs and twine from someone else’s pack. Rory sits across from us, sorting some of the leftover plants we gathered yesterday.

Heather and Foster head out with our canteens to gather water from the stream, so I think it is a good time to try talking to Sprig again. Unfortunately, all my questions are met with shrugs or noncommittal grunts. I think he is still angry with me for supporting Heather.

We fall back into silence and I consider giving up trying to talk. I sigh and watch Sprig’s nimble fingers work on the snare. Just as he loops his twine, I have a moment of realization. Maybe he doesn’t want to speak, but he still might want to communicate.

I reach over and rest my hand on Sprig’s hand. He pauses his work, looking up at me in surprise. With his attention on me, I sign with my fingers the letters “S-O-R-R-Y”.

Sprig just stares at me, his face unreadable. Then he sighs shakily. He makes a fist with his hand and rubs it across his chest in a circular motion. I repeat the action; it is the proper sign for “sorry”.

For a moment, Sprig and I stare at each other and slowly, he nods, his eyes watery. I bite down on the smile I want to give him. He’s not ready for that yet but some color has returned to his face. 

He shows me a few more basic signs and he seems to loosen up. That is, until Heather returns and he tenses up again. 

Great. So much for all of that. Maybe that will be the only progress today.

“How do you sign “why” again?” Rory suddenly pipes in. “Not the letter, like the word.”

Sprig shows him the sign and Rory asks how to sign “When” and “How”. Bit by bit, Rory takes over the lesson, questioning every phrase and word he can think up until he is calling out words rapidly while Sprig speeds along to show him.

“Chair!”

“Tree!”

It is silly and I am so delighted to see Rory look interested in something again. Foster catches my eye and shakes his head at Rory with a smirk. 

“Dance!”

“Go!”

“Okay, now “Ready Set Go”!”

For some reason, that one makes me giggle and the sound cuts off Rory.

“No, no,” I gesture for them to keep going. “Teach us that one.” 

Sprig teaches us the combined motions for “Ready Set Go” but he and Rory trail off, both looking a little out of breath.

“We need some more food,” Foster interjects during the lull. “We don’t have enough plants for tonight.”

“I can go gather some more,” I volunteer. I turn to Rory, “You can stay here and keep learning.”

Rory gives me a skeptical glance. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I mean, I remember what you showed me yesterday.”

Rory looks unconvinced. Then Heather speaks up, “I can go with her.”

There is a pause, one that goes on a beat too long not to be awkward. Heather looks miffed and honestly, I don’t blame her this time. 

“Sure…” I start to say.

“Do you know plants?” Foster asks, always practical. 

Heather nods. “Yeah. I mean, some. And, I, uh, II know basic rules like, uh, don’t eat pokeweed roots.”

Rory holds up a leaf from his pile. “What’s this?”

Heather squints her eyes at the plant. I think this is a little unfair, the plant is too little to see clearly from her distance.

“Rory I know it. It’s a Ramp leaf.” I say. He shoots me a glance and holds up another leaf for Heather. It’s a bigger leaf and more visible, so I let her try.

“Oh!” Heather exclaims, “Oh yeah I know that. That’s sassafras, right?”

Rory looks at her blankly. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“I only ever remember sassafras because…” Heather trails off, looking uncomfortable.

“What?” I ask her. 

“I always remember that one because it has those three leaves,” Heather points at them, “And I always think of them as a footprint.”

I blink in surprise. Yeah, I see it, the plant does kind of look like a footprint. Again, it’s so silly it makes me giggle. Heather looks embarrassed now so I smile at her, “I see it! I never would have thought of that.

“Yeah, well, I always called it the Dinosaur foot plant,” Heather says sheepishly. 

Rory snorts loudly. I am about to reprimand him but he starts laughing. Then, to our surprise, Heather smiles widely before throwing her head back and laughing. She has a surprisingly infectious laugh, one of those ones breathy ones that sound like a car engine starting. It makes all of us smile and chuckle in response, even Sprig.

Suddenly, Rory yelps loudly and leaps to his feet in horror, staring off into the woods. Our laughs are cut off as we all jump up.

“What is it?” I ask Rory frantically. Before he can answer, Heather gasps and grabs at her knife. 

“Well, isn’t this touching?” A high-pitched voice asks. 

Then I see the movement of a person in the woods. Creeping out of the shadows is the small figure of the girl from District 1. She has a petty smirk on her face. “Are you going to sing _Kumbaya_ next?”

Loud laughter echoes as the rest of the Careers step out to join her.


	16. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alliance finds themselves face to face with the Careers.

I hold back a gasp of fear as I stare out at the Careers. They are closest to my side of the camp and I desperately want to back away from them as they advance towards us. I force my feet to stay in place as we get our first good look at them.

The Careers have dwindled down to only three tributes. The group is now Opaline and Gusto from District 1 along with Hali, the girl from District 4. They look as if they have been roughed up badly, whether from fighting or the avalanche, I am not sure. They are covered in dirt and scratches and Hali’s eye is bandaged, with spots of red seeping through the gauze. Despite all of this, the three are still extremely intimidating. 

All of them are spectacularly muscular and I had forgotten how massive Gusto and Hali are. But there is something haggard about them. They appear tired and even weaker than I remember. I wonder if they have had difficulty finding food. If they are hungry and weakened then we might stand a chance against them.

The odds are five against three which is good even if the three of them are so strong. Plus, Foster is almost as strong as them and Heather has proven herself quite ruthless. Sprig’s leg is still injured but it seems like a pain that comes from overusing it rather than him being incapacitated by it. I might be useless in a fight by myself but I can help give a numbers advantage or be a distraction...

I am almost vibrating with nervous energy. The Careers would have caught us completely off guard if Rory had not spotted them, which is a miracle since the grime camouflages them so well. Our only hope for us to catch them off guard.

I need to signal to the others what I am thinking. I inhale deeply before stepping forward, creating a space for the others to see my back. Naturally, this draws the Careers’s attention to me too.

“Well, if it isn’t the little lady,” Hali sneers at me. “The little princess of the coal mines.” 

“Aww, don’t be so harsh, four,” Gusto tells her as he smirks deviously at me.

They keep talking but I don’t pay attention to anything they say. I reach behind me and I tap my hand against my back to catch the rest of our group’s attention. I raise my hands behind my back. I cross my fingers and swipe them upwards-the sign for _“Ready”_ from Sprig’s most recent sign language lesson.

The Careers have pulled out their weapons. They must have left the rest of their supplies behind because all they have on them are knives. Opaline has a sharp, pointed blade and Gusto has a large hunting knife almost as long as his forearm. In each hand, Hali has two compact, switchblade-style knives with a curved edge and a wooden handle.

We have four knives in our group. Foster and Rory each have one and the other two are in the center of our campsite, in easy reach for Sprig and Heather which, of course, means I’m the one left without a weapon.

But I don’t have time to worry about that. Time is of the essence here.

I put my hand up beside my head-the sign for _“Set”_.

Opaline snorts in derision as she watches me. “What, are you, a tomahawk?” 

Opaline keeps taunting me but again I pay her no mind. Instead I study her intently as I weigh my options. Opaline is the only one I might stand a chance against. She is no doubt a better fighter than me, but she’s smaller than me and almost shorter than Rory. 

That’s when I notice how she is angled with her body directed at Rory. She is aiming for Rory because she thinks he’s the easy target. This more than anything makes me seethe and I know what I am going to do.

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

I swing my hand and shout the sign aloud, ”Go!”

I charge at Opaline, catching her off guard and knocking her away from Rory.

I am trying to recall anything I learned in the Training Center as Opaline and I wrestle each other. Thankfully, Opaline was so startled she dropped her knife. She quickly flips us and has me on my back. She begins feeling around for her blade. 

With a shout, Rory is beside us and he clumsily swings his knife at Opaline. She leans back to avoid him and he slices the air again. With Opaline’s weight off me I sit up and push her back on the ground. Her attention back on me, she grabs my arm. She yanks it back as she thrusts her palm against my back and slams me into the rocks. I hear more than feel when my shoulder hits the rocks with a loud crunching sound.

Rory is swinging at Opaline but now she holds her ground, keeping me in place while dodging his jabs. I kick and struggle but my upper half is immobilized by her. Stuck on the forest floor, I quickly look back to check on the others. Foster is brawling with Hali while Sprig and Heather have taken on Gusto. The two being shorter than him is sort of a benefit as they are able to duck and dodge his knife swings while distracting him from both sides. 

Then, with a quick dash, Heather manages to cut Gusto, her knife slicing across his arm. He stumbles back in surprise, almost dropping his blade. Heather takes advantage of his distraction to slice across the arm again. He grunts angrily and swats at her. His hand slams into her head and she’s knocked to her knees, dropping her knife. With Gusto’s back turned, Sprig reaches up and stabs him between his shoulder blades.

Gusto grunts in pain and hunches over, feeling his back. Off to the side, Heather crawls over and joins us with Opaline. She wraps her arms around Opaline’s neck in a chin lock and forces her back. Rory is grabbing her now too and he and Heather pull her off me. As Opaline is pulled away from me, she tightens her grips on my arm and shoulder blade. My arm is roughly yanked back with her and there is a horrible popping noise. I screech as my arm hangs limply. 

I glance back at Opaline, who is close to throwing Heather off of her. I desperately try to think of how to assist her. But I can no longer move the arm without sharp, excruciating pain shooting up to my shoulder. 

With no other options, I flop my body sideways across Opaline’s legs, my weight pinning her down bottom half. She kicks at me painfully and I grab her ankle with my good hand to still her. The three of us have successfully pinned Opaline to the floor. 

Heather holds Opaline’s head down and shouts for Rory. Rory is the only one of us who still has a knife, which he has in his white-knuckled grip. Rory hesitates, looking unsure. Heather’s eyes dart around nervously. She grasps at Rory’s knife but he pulls it back from her reach in a knee-jerk reaction. With a grunt, she grabs a hold of Rory’s wrist and pushes his hand down, stabbing Opaline in the throat.

I shriek as Rory gasps, jerking his hand away as blood squirts out from the wound. Heather grabs his knife and starts sawing through Opaline’s neck.

I feel nauseous and I instinctively turn my head away from the gruesome sight. Below me, Opaline’s kicks and struggles reduce until she stops moving. The cannon booms loudly. 

I crawl off of Opaline’s body slowly because I can only use one arm. I glance back at the fight worriedly but there’s not much more I can do at the moment. I slide up next to a tree and Rory is beside me, looking worriedly at my injured arm. 

“Are you okay?” I ask Rory quickly. He gives me a baffled look, glancing down at my bad arm. 

A rage-filled cry calls out, drawing our attention back to the brawl. I gasp at the sight of Foster stepping back from Hali, having just sliced through the front of her abdomen. Hali wails, grasping at her stomach while what looks like some of her intestines are gushing out of her body.

Now I am definitely nauseous. I push Rory aside and vomit on the ground, supporting myself with my good arm. When I’m done I force myself to look back at the fight. 

Hali has stumbled back away from Foster, supporting herself against a tree while desperately grabbing at her stomach to hold everything in. 

Heather has returned to Sprig and Gusto, having retrieved a knife. He glances at Hali and with a roar of frustration he barrels at Sprig, brutally punching his chest. I scream as Gusto pushes Sprig forcefully, knocking him on his back. 

Foster races up to Gusto, his knife at the ready. Gusto pauses and surveys the area. With a deep grunt he backs up and grabs Hali’s shoulder and pushes her towards the forest. Gusto and Hali seem to know they’re both too injured to keep fighting right now. Hali stumbles into the forest clumsily, Gusto right behind her. 

We don’t move for a tense moment. Then, with a groan, Sprig pushes himself up from the ground. 

“You okay?” Foster asks him, breathing heavily. 

“Yeah,” Sprig gasps. “Yeah, just hit my chest pretty hard but I’m okay. You?”

Foster just shrugs in response. A bloody nose has drenched Foster’s face and he has a nasty cut below his collarbone. 

“Can someone see what we have in the first aid kid?” He asks.

Heather digs in her bag and pulls out the small kit. Beside me, Rory begins moving again, satisfied that the Careers are truly gone. I can’t resist peeking at Opaline’s body. At some point Heather had dragged her off to the side, so she’s not in the middle of our campsite. She rolled her over on her stomach, so I can’t see the wound aside from some blood pooling out around her.

“Any iodine or anything?” Foster asks Heather.

Heather tsks and shakes her head. “No iodine, just some hydrogen peroxide.”

Foster sighs, thinking deeply. “I can just clean it out in the stream later. We’ll need to get moving soon anyway.” 

I definitely want to wash up. As I glance down at the blood splatter on my clothes, my adrenaline wears off and I feel the terrible pain in my arm. I gasp loudly without meaning to.

“Madge!” Rory calls out worriedly as Foster comes to my left side to check on me. Foster gently touches my arm and I hold back a wince.

“I think it’s your shoulder. I’m pretty sure it’s dislocated,” Foster tells me. “It’s starting to swell. If we fix it right away we might be able to avoid the worst of it.”

“Can you help her?” Rory asks in a panicky tone.

“Well, I’ve seen this before.” Foster says hesitantly. Rory’s head perks up but Foster holds his hand up to dissuade him. “I only helped someone else do it. I don’t know if I can do it myself.”

“What happened?” I ask him. 

“Well, my aunt fell out of a tree. She landed on her hand and the shoulder popped. The doctor was busy so we had to reset it,” Foster explains. “I just held it in place while my mom did all the work.” 

“Well, it’s the best we have,” I say, holding back tears as the pain worsens. “You have seen it before.”

“Well, yeah, but,” Foster tells me, “If it goes wrong, well...it might snap the arm.”

I freeze involuntarily. Foster notices and looks ready to step away but I shake my head determinately. My arm is useless and in pain. What will I lose by letting Foster try this? 

“Please.” I grab Foster’s hand with my good arm. “Please try.”

Foster sighs then nods. “Okay. We need to find the right angle to slide it back in. Rory you’ll have to hold her in place.”

Foster and Rory kneel around me. Foster directs Rory to stay by my head and shows him how to position my shoulder. Foster grabs a hold of my elbow and readies the arm. 

Foster looks grim. “Sorry, but this is gonna hurt.”

“Here.” Heather grabs my fleece from the ground and holds it up to my head. I bury my face into it and bite down on the cloth.

Above me, I hear Foster count aloud for Rory. “Okay. One, two, three!”

Foster sharply pushes my arm up and twists it in. My screams are muffled by my jacket and I can hear the popping sound as it goes back into the joint.

It instantly feels so much better. I roll my head back from my fleece and see the eager faces staring down at me. I hesitantly hold up my hand and wave my fingertips. I smile in relief. I wipe away my tears as a laugh bubbles out of me.

“It feels fine.” 

“It’s gonna hurt real bad in a day or two.” Foster tells me seriously but he is grinning.

I hear what sounds like someone moaning. I start to sit up when Heather cries out suddenly, clutching her side. 

“What is it?” Foster asks her.

“I don’t know,” Heather gasps painfully as she hunches over. “I must have hurt my ribs when I fell. I think they are broken or cracked or something.”

“Do you know what to do?” Rory asks her. 

“I mean, I’ve tended animals before,” Heather states, “But I don’t know if-”

Suddenly, there is a loud thumping noise, making us all jump in shock. We look back to see Sprig has collapsed to the ground.

Rory scampers over to him quickly. “Sprig! Sprig, what is it?”

Sprig’s head lobs to the side. His eyes are rolling back into his head as he moans loudly. I recognize it as the moaning I heard just a few minutes ago.

Heather has joined them. She feels around Sprig for the problem, stopping at his torso. “Oh, God.”

Heather gestures to Rory and they pull back Sprig’s jacket, revealing a pool of blood seeping from his chest. 

“Okay, well, Sprig just try to stay awake and-”

Rory is cut off as Heather shrieks, sliding back from Sprig. 

“What the hell is that?” Foster shouts. I lean over to glance at Sprig from their angle and gasp in terror.

Sprig is foaming at the mouth. Then, with a jerk, his body begins convulsing violently.

Rory cries out. I force myself to my feet, and pull him away from Sprig and into my side. We all begin shouting in panic and confusion. 

“What is going on?” 

“Is it a seizure?”

“Check first aid again, maybe there’s something…”

But our voices all trail off as Sprig’s spasms begin to calm, his movements less frantic until with one last jerk, he stills. 

The boom of the cannon rings out. We all stare in silence at Sprig’s lifeless body.


	17. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The alliance regroups after their fight with the Careers, both physically and mentally.

Everything is still except for the bubbling foam in Sprig’s mouth. I feel nauseous again, but my stomach is empty. All I can do is murmur a soft, “Oh my God.”

Heather is the first one to recover. She spits out a disgusted, “What the hell was that?”

“Poison?” I guess.

A startled looking Foster asks, “What did we eat last?”

“We haven’t eaten yet today,” I tell him. “Remember, we were about to collect some plants before.”

“Right. Well, maybe something bit him?” Foster adds.

“When did something have time to?” Heather asks. 

Rory cautiously kneels back beside Sprig. I want to pull him back into my side, but he has a determined look on his face that keeps me quiet. Instead I busy my hands by cupping my elbow to support my newly reset arm.

“Don’t touch him, kid,” Foster warns Rory. “You could get infected.”

Rory slides his hand into his fleece pocket and uses it as a glove while he feels around to inspect the wound on Sprig’s chest. After a minute, he spots something and he leans in to peer closer.

“What do you see?” I blurt out anxiously. 

Using his forefinger and thumb through the pocket’s lining, Rory pulls out a long, thin cylindrical object from Sprig’s chest. 

“What is that?” Heather asks, crawling back to Sprig to get a closer look.

“Is it a needle?” I ask next. 

Rory shakes his head, looking at the object in befuddlement. Heather pulls the bottom of her overshirt over her hand and takes it from Rory’s outstretched hand. Heather inspects it, wiping the blood off of it to reveal a dark, gray color. 

“I think it’s a file,” Heather tells us. She points at its end point. “It looks like it’s been shaved down to be sharper.”

I recall Gusto slamming Sprig to the ground during the fight. He had pushed him right at his chest.

“Gusto must have stabbed him and Sp-he didn’t notice in all the commotion,” I tell the others, embarrassed at myself for stuttering over Sprig’s name. 

“But would that kill him? It wouldn’t make him foam up at the mouth,” Heather points out.

“It would if it was dipped in poison. If he stabbed him right by the heart, he’d get poison in the bloodstream and it spread out through the body quickly.” Foster tells us. 

I feel awful, standing above Sprig’s body and talking about him as if he wasn’t alive minutes ago. I don’t want to be here anymore. 

“We should get moving. They will want to collect the bodies soon,” I say to the others. 

We are all quiet again as we start packing up our campsite. Foster and I awkwardly rifle through Sprig’s pack and divide his share of the supplies between us. 

Heather finds her lost knife from the ground and stops beside Opaline’s body. Heather grabs Opaline’s knife and examines it. She gives it a satisfied nod and brings it over to the rest of our items.

“You wanna keep that?” Foster asks her, nodding at the blade. 

Heather smiles. “Oh yeah. It’s nice. It’s a tanto blade and all of ours are straight backs. Gives us some variety.”

We all each get at least one knife now, which I will admit does make me feel more secure. But I feel a little disappointed that we gained a fifth knife right as we lost Sprig. 

Foster declares I need to keep my arm rested to help it heal. With little options, I create a makeshift sling for my arm with the non-bloody remnants of Sprig’s jacket. I struggle to remove it with one hand, so Rory quietly helps me. Heather can’t do anything for her sore ribs for now and decides she will bind them once we settle at our next camp. 

Foster is kind enough to carry my pack for me. I appreciate it, because of course we come across a patch of rocks that are particularly difficult to climb. With an embarrassing amount of help from the others, I manage to hoist myself over the ridge. We set up camp once we decide we are a decent enough distance from any boulders that could roll down on us.

I can’t believe it’s only been a couple days since the Avalanche. Only a couple days ago, Paisley was still with us. Sprig was alive just a few hours ago. Now they are both gone. 

Before I can stop myself, I am thinking about that first day in training, when Sprig talked to me. He had been genuine and friendly, not sizing up an easy kill like the other tributes. 

I feel tears welling up in my eyes and soon they are running down my face. I am the type of cryer whose eyes fill up and then the tears flow like a faucet. There’s no stopping them once they start but they are quiet. So I sit and rest my head in my uninjured hand, hiding my face. Then I let myself miss Sprig and Paisley as I cry.

When my tears have calmed down, I wipe my face with the sleeve of my fleece. I start fiddling with my sling, hoping that the others will think I am just reacting my arm. 

We are all exhausted from the day and no one feels like doing anything. Heather binds her ribs by using her overshirt, instead just wearing her tank and fleece. We don’t feel like preparing dinner either so we munch on the leftover plants. No one mentions that we have enough food to share with one less mouth to feed.

* * *

The pain in my arm has worsened today. I try to hide my discomfort as much as possible, carrying supplies around and keeping pace with the others. The last thing I need is for Heather to think I am too damaged and decide to crush my skull. 

God, these Games are making my sense of humor so morbid. 

I keep my makeshift sling on while we walk together but I remove it once we stop and start to make camp. I pull on my ponytail to tighten it. It loosened up last night but I can’t lift my arm above my shoulders to properly fix it. I let it down and redo it at the base of my neck, using the rest of my pain tolerance to wrap my ribbon tightly around the hairband.

We are all starving since we barely ate yesterday. Rory collects plants for dinner again. As we eat, Heather makes an offhand mention of trying to hunt again soon. As she continues, she is interrupted by the cannon. We all look up instinctively but nothing happens.

“It was probably the District Four girl. She didn’t look too good,” Heather points out. I recall Hali stumbling away from our fight, her hands grasping her bleeding abdomen. 

Foster looks uncomfortable as he silently returns to his food. 

That night, the anthem confirms Heather’s guess as Hali lights up the sky.

I am paired with Heather for the first watch that night. She keeps glancing up at the stars, as if she is expecting the anthem to play again. 

Before I realize it, I am asking Heather, “Are you thinking about your cousin?”

She looks surprised but nods. I tell her comfortingly, “He must be really good to have made it this far.”

“He’s a fighter. I’m not surprised.” She sounds more confident than she looks. She darts a glance at me and adds, “Nana would be angry if we didn’t fight our hardest to come home.” 

“She’s both of your guys' grandmother?”

She smirks, looking nostalgic. “The only thing more terrifying than the Games is our Nana. She’d make President Snow piss himself.”

I bite my lip, holding back a surprised laugh. There is no way the Capitol aired that bit on TV. 

“Nana told us that you can only lose if you fight to win. If you don’t fight you’re not a loser-you’re a quitter.” Heather stares up at the sky again. “Losing the Games is one thing, disappointing Nana is another.”

“My Papa always told me something similar,” I tell her, smiling at the thought. “Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it.”

“That’s a good one.”

“It’s kind of been this mantra that’s been going through my head throughout the Games.”

Heather is giving me a contemplative look. “That makes a bit of sense, looking back on everything.”

“I don’t know how much it’s helped me but…” I shrug and gesture to myself as if to say, ‘Here I am’.

“You know, I thought you’d be too soft to rough it out here,” Heather says, still regarding me. “But you’re not as soft as you look.”

I think she means that as a complement, so I take it as one. We are quiet the rest of the night and I try not to think that in order for Rory to win, neither of Nana’s grandchildren can come home.

* * *

We don’t journey very far the next day in order to have more time to hunt for food. We trek uphill for only an hour and a half before making camp. Shortly after setting up, Foster and Heather head off together to try to hunt, leaving me alone with Rory. 

I kick the ground dejectedly. It is more uncomfortable and rocky than our previous campsite as the forest is thinning out the higher we go. 

A few feet away, Rory clears his throat loudly. Then he coughs. Then he wheezes. 

“Rory? Are you okay?” I ask him, walking over to him. 

With another harsh cough, Rory’s mouth opens and blood starts dribbling onto his lips. 

Panic hits me as I recall Sprig’s foaming mouth. I drop to my knees beside him, grabbing his shoulder worriedly. 

“What’s happening? Do you feel sick?”

“No it’s not that.” Rory says, feeling his mouth with his hand. “I don’t feel any different. I just…”

Rory trails off and sticks his finger in his mouth. He feels around and finds what he was looking for. 

“I think it’s…” He trails off again. He reaches his thumb in and feels around again. With tug, out comes a tooth. 

Rory sighs. “I felt it come loose when we were all fighting yesterday.” 

I am so deeply relieved. I realize I have been holding my breath and force myself to exhale and keep breathing. 

Rory’s mouth is bright red and his teeth are covered with remnants of blood. He chugs some water and his mouth is clear enough for me to inspect his teeth. 

“Hmm. It looks like you chipped a couple more,” I tell him, noticing jagged edges by the empty spot. Rory nods as I lean back to sit on the ground. The patch is especially rocky but I hide my discomfort. 

Rory peers at his tooth and grimaces. “Aww man! It’s an adult tooth!”

He pouts and I am reminded again of how young he is. I realize how quiet he has been the last couple days, not his usual chipper self. 

“Rory, are you feeling okay?”

He rolls his eyes. “It’s just a tooth, Madge.”

“No, I mean, how are you feeling? You’ve just seemed a little different.”

“What? I mean, I’m fine.” Rory says quickly. His eyes dart at me and then away and I know he knows what I’m talking about. 

“Rory,” I prod, “You can tell me.”

He looks ready to deny me again but I just look at him, keeping my expression neutral. He sighs, his shoulders dropping. When he glances back at me, his eyes are so sad.

“Sprig and Paisley are gone,” he murmurs, “And you…you were so close.”

“Come here, Rory,” I say. 

I expect Rory to shrug me off and pretend he’s too tough for my affection. But, to my surprise, he comes to me, resting his head on my good shoulder. I pet his hair soothingly and try to think of something else for us to talk about. 

“Only six of us left, you know. That means they’re probably interviewing everyone back home again.”

That makes Rory smile. No doubt he is remembering the havoc that was the Capitol descending on District 12 last year. I want to keep Rory smiling so I add, “I doubt you remember my interview.”

As I hoped, Rory laughs. 

As a friend of both Katniss and Peeta, I became a target for the interviewers, especially when most of Peeta’s family were less than cooperative. My interview was not noteworthy aside from my awful frozen deer look, the one our mentors and Effie had tried so hard to rid me of. 

Rory and I start thinking of who they will be interviewing this time. There are obvious choices like our families, but silly guesses too like Greasy Sae or a man from the Seam named Mr. Mason who is constantly complaining to Hazelle that her kids are too loud. 

Then I point out that everyone we mention might get interviewed for sure now, so he starts thinking up ridiculous choices like Rooba the butcher. Honestly, I would love to see someone from the Capitol try to approach Rooba. 

I keep Rory distracted until Foster and Heather return. They managed to capture one squirrel but they set up traps for the next day. 

“Are we going to stay here tomorrow?” I ask them. We have been moving continuously since we returned to the mountain. 

Foster nods. “We’ve put some distance between us. Plus, if we go much higher we’ll lose most of our coverage.”

Sounds good to me, though I wish it was on a less rocky patch. 

After dinner and just past sunset, Foster and I head to the stream to refill our canteens. I leave my sling behind to help carry the supplies along with my knife. As we walk back, I notice that Foster has been as quiet as Rory the past couple days, it was just less noticeable. 

“I wanted to say thank you,” I speak, looking up to him. 

He looks confused. “For what?”

I can’t resist smiling. “For my arm, of course.” 

“Oh, right. It was nothing.” His face visible enough that I can see him look flushed. 

“No, you made it quite clear that that could have gone very, very badly,” I remind him. I’m not going to let him downplay this.

“You said my arm could have snapped if you messed up. Which you didn’t.”

“Yeah, but that was nothing. I should have kept a better eye on Sprig," he says, looking morose.

I’m surprised by this. Foster has done so much for us throughout this entire alliance. He has taken charge of our group and protected us. I wonder if he feels responsible for what has happened to Sprig and Paisley. 

I wonder if this protectiveness is why he told me he would help Rory win.

We are besides our camp now but I need to speak with Foster before we are back with Rory and Heather again. So I rest a hand on Foster’s arm to stop him. I ask him what I have been wondering since that first night we were on watch together. 

“Why did you say you would help me with Rory?”

Foster sighs, looking reluctant. But before he can speak, we hear Rory’s voice. 

“Heather I think it’s just them. I don’t think Gusto is around.”

Foster and I exchange a glance and we push through the bushes back into the camp. Heather is standing on alert, her knife at the ready. Rory looks up at us and gestures in our direction. 

“See?”

But Heather shakes her head forcefully. “No. No it’s not them.”

“Heather, we-”

“Shh! Listen!” Heather cuts me off and points off to the side. 

We quiet as we listen. Then, Foster perks up at a sound. A moment later I hear it too. 

The is a sharp, metallic sounding clang, followed by rustling branches in what sounds like someone cutting trees to clear their way.

We all exchange looks before grouping together to prepare to defend ourselves. I clench my knife’s handle tightly.

The noise gets louder. Now we can make out laboring grunts from a male-sounding voice. 

We all raise our weapons and brace ourselves as Truss from District 10 stumbles out of the woodland.


	18. Part 2 "The Rock" Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heather is reunited with her cousin and the alliance is introduced to Truss.

“Truss!”

Heather rushes forward and leaps into her cousin’s arms. Truss winces from some injury but returns her hug. We all lower our weapons.

“Are you all right?” Heather cries as they pull apart. 

“Yeah.” Truss nods. “You okay?”

Heather shrugs her shoulder noncommittally. She is probably thinking about her ribs. 

“She’s mostly been worried about you.” Foster adds. Heather narrows her eyes at him but Truss chuckles.

“Aww, were you scared?”

“Shut up!” Heather moves to punch his shoulder but he flinches away. “What is it?”

“Just some bumps. You know the Games.”

“Did you fight someone?” She asks him, touching his bicep worriedly. He holds back a wince again and forces a carefree expression.

“I got the boy from Four. We fought for a while. He had been tracking me. How about you?”

“We fought the Careers. We managed to pick two off.” Heather tilts her head to acknowledge the rest of us.

“I managed to grab a spear. That helped a lot.” Truss says, proudly holding it up. A few leaves fall off of it, revealing it as what he was using to cut the branches. 

“I got knives.” Heather adds. She peers at him quizzically. “Are you ready now?”

“Sure. You ready?”

“Might as well.”

Suddenly, Truss and Heather face the three of us, holding up their weapons threateningly. 

“What are you doing?” Foster exclaims.

“Well, you see,” Heather says, smiling viciously, “Truss and I decided that we would take care of as many as we can separately before we take everyone else out together.”

“What, and then you kill each other?” I ask. 

“We made a deal,” says Truss. “Whoever kills the last person before the two of us gets to win. The other will willingly commit suicide.”

“Yeah, let’s see how long that works out,” Foster growls, looking furious. “You’ve been playing me from the beginning. You came up to me that first day of training with that plan on how to get stuff out of the Cornucopia. It was all lies.”

Heather shakes her head. “Don’t take it personal Foster. It’s the Games.” 

“If you don’t fight you’re a quitter, right?” I snap at her caustically. 

She glares at me. “It’s kill or get killed. Play or get played. I decided to play. It's not my fault if you got played.” 

Heather holds her knife up in a throwing stance. “And now, I’m gonna kill.” 

“Run!”

The words are out of my mouth before I think them. Rory, Foster and I turn sharply and sprint in the opposite direction. 

Beside me I feel a whoosh of air by my ear as one of Heather’s knives whizzes by and barely misses me. We do not get far before I hear the horrible sound of Truss’s spear hitting a target. I turn to my left. Foster races past me.

No.

No, no, no, no, no. 

If Foster is still up that can mean only one thing. I turn to my right and see Rory on the ground, the spear sticking out of his back. 

“Rory!” I scream, rushing to his side. He moans and I cry in relief. He is still alive! He stares up at me weakly. 

I hear footsteps behind me. Before I know what I am doing, I grab my knife, vault up to my feet and stab the body behind me. 

Truss gasps as the knife juts through his torso. He falls over, knocking me down with him. Distantly, I can hear Heather screaming Truss’s name. Almost in a daze, I climb onto Truss and straddle him as I slash him again and again. It is a mess with blood everywhere. Truss continues to gasp as blood gurgles up his throat, leaking out onto his chin.

The sound of the cannon jolts me out of my fugue state. Below me, Truss’s eyes are still wide open but he is no longer breathing.

With a roar, Heather snatches the collar of my fleece jacket and harshly yanks me back and pulls me off of Truss’s body. I land on my back and Heather glares down at me angrily. Her face is so contorted in rage that she looks like a different person. She has her other knife mounted and ready in her fist. 

Abruptly, she is forced back as Foster tackles her, knocking the knife out of her hand. Foster and Heather are full on wrestling now. They roll down past some trees and out of sight. But I barely notice, my mind is frozen as I keep staring at Truss’s body. 

I killed him. 

That’s when I hear a weak, “Madge?”

At once I am at Rory’s side, dropping the knife. “Rory? Oh, Rory I am so sorry. Look, I’m sure I can fix you up-”

But Rory is shaking his head. 

“No, no I can Rory!” I look around desperately. I need something from a sponsor. I look up at the sky and call out, “Help! Please! Help us!”

“It’s okay Madge-”

I look down at my bloody hands, crying. “No. No, it’s not all right. I…I was going to make sure you won. That you got back home, to District Twelve.”

“District Twelve.” 

I look up at Rory’s face and he is smiling. Through my tears, I start to smile too. 

“District Twelve,” I say, “Where there’s soot and coal everywhere. And it always smells like a fire’s burning. And no matter where you go at least two people are starting an argument over nothing.”

Rory laughs lightly. 

“And there’s your mother,” I continue, “Hazelle is bent over a stove or a bucket of wash, scrubbing away. And Posy is ‘helping’ but really she’s twirling in the corner or playing with some flowers. And Vick is bent over a notebook, scribbling away. And then Gale comes home from the mine. And Posy cheers and runs over to him and he scoops her up so she can touch the ceiling.”

Rory slowly lifts his hand. I clutch it tightly.

“If I’m there, I am trying to offer my help but no one will let me. So I take you kids outside and you all run around and make a toy out of any old object. It always amazes me how you all can make a pebble or a stick fun.”

Rory’s eyes are closed now. My words are coming out in short bursts as I try to hold in my tears.

“Then the Everdeens come over for supper. They’ve brought a turkey and we’re all excited to try it. Prim has made a dandelion salad. Prim immediately joins you all in the yard. Katniss and Gale join me and we sit on the front stoop and watch you guys run around. And Peeta comes by with a big loaf of bread, that’s still warm and smells amazing. And then Hazelle sticks her head out and yells ‘Dinner!’ so loud that all the neighbor kids get jealous. Then you yell ‘Last one there gets cooked in Greasy Sae’s soup!’ and we all run inside as fast as we can.”

Rory’s body stills and his breathing stops. I collapse onto his body and sob as the sound of his cannon rings out throughout the arena. 

I am still crying when I hear footsteps. I sit up quickly and see Foster return. His nose is bleeding and his shirt has a large tear down the front. 

“She ran off. Almost had her but she’s faster than me.”

I nod, letting go of Rory’s hand. It falls limply to his side.

Foster kneels next to me. “I heard the cannon.”

I keep nodding. I pull out the spear, wincing as it catches in Rory’s body. I set it aside and gently roll Rory over onto his back. The injury looks worse since all the blood seeped out and puddled underneath him. I cross his arms over his body so it can cover some of the wound. 

Foster just looks at me sadly as I methodically go through these motions. I am still weeping but it is not huge sobs anymore. I feel as if I have stepped outside of my body, like I’m watching myself from a distance rather than doing this myself. 

Rory resembles a proper corpse now. It hurts to look at him. I stand up too quickly and my side aches in protest, but I barely register it. I just walk away. Foster follows me. 

“Can’t believe she betrayed us. She was my first ally.”

“Well, we all knew this alliance only went so far. Just ask Paisley,” I say.

“Yeah, but to have an alliance behind our backs like that? No wonder she was so desperate to find him,” says Foster, rubbing his hand over his face, wiping away some blood.

I have to sidestep Truss and his innards. My stabs were so disgusting. “I’m no good with a knife. That was pure luck with him coming up behind me.”

“I think he was gonna try to break your neck or something,” says Foster. He picks up Truss’s bag from beside his body as I pick up the knife from the ground.

“You can keep the spear. I’m no good with that either.”

“All right.”

“We each have a knife, right?” I ask him as I grab Rory’s pack from the ground. 

“Yeah.”

“I think we should split up now.”

“What?” Foster stares at me, shocked.

“Look, Foster,” I say, picking up my own pack, “I don’t want to kill you, so I think it’s best we just split up now.”

“Don’t you think we should wait ’til-”

“No,” I say firmly, kneeling down to pull items out of Rory’s pack. I begin splitting up his share of the supplies.

“Wait, Madge,” Foster says pleadingly as I shove things into my pack. “Can’t we-”

“No,” I repeat. I grab Truss’s pack from Foster and dump it onto the ground. There isn’t much. The most valuable things are a water skin, a box of matches, and an extra set of gloves. I pocket the matches and give Foster the rest. 

Foster huffs in annoyance, crouching down next to me. “Why are you-”

“Because I just decided that I am going to win this thing,” I announce, staring straight into Foster’s gray eyes. “I am going to win for Rory, for his family. For Hazelle and Gale and Vick and Posy. I’m going to win for Sprig and Paisley. I’m going to win for my mother, for my father, for my Aunt Maysilee. I’m going to win for Haymitch and Katniss and Peeta.” 

I have finished splitting the supplies evenly enough. I shove some at Foster, who is staring at me in disbelief.

“I’m going to win for District Twelve,” I continue, my head held high. “For every single person-no, for every child that has ever been in the Hunger Games. I am going to win this thing no matter what. And I don’t care who stands in my way anymore.” 

I stand back up. Foster follows me up, beginning to look lost. 

“So, Foster, you’re the only person still alive here that I like so I suggest we go opposite directions and hope we never run into each other again.”

And with that, I turn from Foster and walk as far away from Rory, and all the pain that comes with him, as I can.


	19. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madge is struggling with everything that has happened to her-and what she's done.

* * *

****

####  **Crown (definition):**

**1\. (noun) the top or highest part of something.**  
**2\. (noun) an ornamental symbol of distinction (gained by a victory or achievement)**  
**3\. (verb) be the triumphant culmination of (an effort or endeavor, especially a prolonged one)**

* * *

Every step I take feels heavy, as if my body is trying to prevent me from leaving Rory. I feel like my mind and my body are separated from one another. I barely know what I am doing right now. I wonder if I am going through shock? Or if maybe I am just too exhausted to care anymore.

My mind is running on a loop. Over and over I see Rory with the spear in his back. I see Heather’s viscous glare. I see Foster’s look of betrayal. I see Rory’s last breath. 

I can’t walk anymore. I collapse to my knees and crawl towards the biggest collection of bushes nearby. It is still dark and difficult to see but I recognize the bush’s leaves as Poison Ivy, so I drag myself past them. Poison Ivy is bad enough but the Capitol has probably engineered them to spread a disease or even catch on fire for all I know.

I continue crawling, trying to find another good collection of shrubbery, when my hand catches on an edge. I look down and in the dark I can make out a small drop off in front of me. I peer my head over it, and realize I am atop an overhanging rock. I maneuver to the side and slide myself under the ledge. It is a perfect, cozy shelter. 

Once I find a decent angle, I take my pack off and set it up to be my pillow. My shoulder injury aches and makes every movement difficult in the tight space. The shoulder has started to swell up and everything is so painfully stiff that it is difficult to move my arm. I slide my sling back on to rest my arm. I lay face down on the bag and drape my good arm over my head. I do not want my tears to show up on camera. 

* * *

I fall asleep and when I wake up it is daytime again. For a moment, I do not remember where I am, thinking I am just in the woods outside of District 12. I roll my eyes at myself. Gosh, Rory is going to tease me so much when-

And there it is. The memory comes back to me, more painful than any physical wound could ever be. 

I exhale sharply and force myself not to think about that. I should probably keep moving but I like my little grotto. I don’t feel like doing anything and I doubt I could even if I wanted to. Besides, my shoulder is in bad shape after last night and I should not be straining it.

I lounge about as the day passes. I am glad I had refilled my canteen before everything that happened last night. I rummage around in my pack for some breakfast. I pull out some berries. I try to enjoy them but I am not very hungry.

I could just lie here forever. I allow myself to imagine that, me winning by not moving from this spot. That could work actually, the tribute from the coal mines wins by hiding in a hole. I giggle deliriously to myself. 

My mind can’t help but go back to Rory. That horrible feeling when Heather showed her true colors. To think I had defended her when she killed Paisley! She probably would have done that regardless of Paisley’s injuries. Then I tried to keep peace between her and Sprig. 

With a jolt, I remember Sprig’s death. In the middle of our fight with the Careers, Heather joined me and Rory with Opaline, which left Sprig alone against Gusto. Even if Gusto was as badly injured as it seemed, Heather knew he could overpower her. So she had left Sprig behind while helping us. 

She left behind the person in our alliance who was the most against her.

After the fight, Heather said she had hurt her ribs but she didn’t show much discomfort. In fact, she had seemed fine beforehand while Foster set my arm. I recall that light groaning noise before Heather called out in pain. It was almost as if she wanted to keep us distracted from Sprig a while longer. 

I feel horribly sick and bile rises in my throat. I scamper out of my shelter and heave up the berries I ate earlier. Great. All that work to gather food and I just wasted it all. I return to my shelter and attempt to eat more but I am still too queasy.

Before I know it, it is evening. The anthem plays but I don’t even glance at the sky. I can’t bear to see Rory up there. But I am reminded that there are only four of us now: me, Foster, Heather and Gusto. 

It is an unusual final four. I wonder what the betting pool is like now. I would say I don’t stand a chance in a fight against any of the others but then I never thought I would be able to fight Opaline or kill Truss-

My stomach drops. As hurtful as everything with Rory has been, it managed to distract me from the terrible thing I have done.

I killed someone. 

I drop my head into my hand and feel the tears welling up again. In my mind, I see myself on top of Truss, stabbing him over and over. The worst part is that I barely even realized I was doing it at the time. Some primal urge had come over me. I could rationalize this if it had been to protect Rory but it wasn’t. 

It was because I wanted to hurt him. 

* * *

The next day the weather is dank and foggy. It makes me want to curl up tighter in my shelter and fall back asleep. But I am running low on water so I crawl out of my hole and travel to the stream to refill my canteen. 

When I get to the stream I glance down at my body and cringe. I am covered in dried blood and I have no idea if it is mine or someone else’s. The thought of Truss or Rory’s blood on me makes me feel nauseous again.

I set my pack down and try to wash up. I slide my sling off to wash it out before it starts to smell. There is a tingling feeling around the wounded area and down my arm. Worst of all, every now and then my muscles will spasm painfully. All this stress has been making me ache so much. It is not helped by me crawling around on a craggy ground and attacking someone with a knife-

Killing someone with a knife, I correct myself. Just like that, I am about to cry again.

Stop, I tell myself firmly, Stop. Stop thinking about that. 

I blink my tears back forcefully. For once my tears obey me and I don’t start crying. I keep my head straight and focus determinedly on washing my sling.

I am so focused that I am slow to notice a strange sound. Once I hear it, I pause and look around the arena. The sound is a low hum, like something is tumbling down the mountainside.  
Is it another avalanche or earthquake?

The hum gets louder and it sounds like pebbles clacking against one another. Through the thinning woodland, I see a collection of rocks cascading down the side of the mountain. It could be another avalanche but these are not boulders but rather rocks about the size of a baseball. 

In fact, all of them are almost the exact same size. Something feels off about them. They are too smooth and their surface is a polished shine. 

I realize that these stones are not just rolling down the hill but rather towards one another, grouping together. I can’t move, I am too intrigued despite myself. 

As the stones collect in a clump, they stop. For a beat, it is quiet. Then, all together, rows of short, spindly crab-like legs burst out of the individual rocks. Dozens of muttations are gathered together. Then the legs begin walking and they start moving towards me.

I feel my sling drop from my hands. In the same breath, I turn and start running as fast as I can. 

Behind me, I hear a clacking sound getting increasingly louder. It is the patter of the mutt’s legs clicking across the stony ground as they follow. 

My mind is distracted as I rush into a more wooded area. I tromp gracelessly, too exhausted to keep a steady pace but too afraid to quit moving. The land is getting less steep the lower down I go so it is easier to run but I don’t know how to use this terrain to my advantage. I don’t think finding a cliff edge would stop these mutts the same way it stopped the bear muttations. There are so many of them and they can move so easily.

I am rushing forward into a forest clearing when I am abruptly stopped as I slam into a solid object. I bounce back in surprise. I look up to see I have collided with another body.

It is Gusto. He is trekking uphill with a large pack on his back. He was also taken aback by our run in but he recovers his footing easily. He smiles when he spots me.

“Well, what have we here-” He starts to say but I cut him off.

“Run! Go!” I shout to him, not pausing as I begin running again. “They’re behind me! We have to move!”

“What are you-” 

“Mutts! Mutts! Run!” I screech desperately. I can hear the humming noise of the mutts closing in on me again. I don’t look back to see anything else but Gusto swears loudly. He sprints after me, catching up to me in a few long strides. He gains a few paces on me and makes a sharp turn to the right. I follow him, hoping that since he had just been traveling through this area he might have recognized something.

“What the hell are those things?” He shouts to me. 

I don’t have an answer beyond ‘mutts’ so I just say, “I don’t know! They just started chasing.”

Gusto swears again. “You know how to kill ‘em?”

I don’t. But I know there are way too many of them to go on the offensive so I can’t let Gusto try something like that.

“We have to just get away from them,” I reply. 

“What, like climb up a tree or something?”

I tell him no. The mutts’s legs look adaptable. They could probably climb up after us. 

The woodland is getting thicker again, which hopefully should slow the mutts down. I wish there was a way to use the area to escape. I start searching for some ideas as we keep running. 

The arena is mostly rock but the mutts are definitely fine with stone, if they aren’t actually made of stone already. The stream or water didn’t seem to bother them since they followed me along the riverbank when they first started chasing me. Maybe something like fire? It’s the only element I can think of that might be able to hurt a large amount of them at once. But how can I possibly set a fire?

Then I remember that I have matches. The matches I took from Truss’s pack are still in my pocket. 

“Hey!” I call out to Gusto, starting to slow my steps. He pauses and looks back at me. 

“I’m starting a fire. Here!” I grab a dry branch from the ground with leaves still attached to it. I hand it to Gusto as I take the matches from my pocket. 

I try to steady my hands as I fumble with the matches. Gusto is restless beside me with impatience. I ready my match but my arm spasms painfully, shaking my hand and making everything more difficult as I try to light the match. 

“Hurry up!” Gusto shouts as the mutts get louder. My arm spasms again and tears of frustration pick at my eyes as I try to strike the match.

Gusto yells out in terror as the mutts come within view. I pull my bad arm against my chest and use it to steady everything as I finally spark up a flame. I reach out and light the branch in Gusto’s hand. The fire spreads quickly and Gusto takes it and begins brandishing at the mutts nearest to us. They scamper back from the flame, making an inhuman, almost mechanical-sounding squeal.

I find another twig and set it ablaze and throw it at the mutts. More squeals cry out as the flame lands in their path. My match is near its end so I drop it in a bush. It catches flame and begins burning up. 

“Burn their path!” I tell Gusto, forcing my arm back to light the next match. He takes his branch and passes its flame to bushes near him. I take my new match and light another twig before dropping the match in another bush. 

“Come on!” I call out to Gusto again. We begin running again. I hold my stick to the side and start lighting fires against the shrubbery we pass. Gusto copies me and soon I can taste the smoke billowing around us as fire spreads. We keep this up for minutes until our branches get close to their ends and I am forced to drop mine. Gusto follows, yelling out in annoyance as he burns his hand. 

I gesture to him and we turn right and begin to climb uphill. Behind us the fire spreads down in the opposite direction. The crackling of the flames begins to drown out the mutts screeching and the sounds die down as we get away from the scene. 

Slowly, we are reaching the higher points where the land starts to get rocky again. We keep running but after a few minutes my exhaustion catches up with me and I slow down to a stop. I drop my hands to my knees as I breathe heavily, my lungs gasping between exhaustion and smoke inhalation. 

I sigh loudly and straighten back up. I have barely had a moment of relief when I realize Gusto is still beside me, his large hunting knife at the ready.


	20. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No good deed goes unpunished.

Gusto has resumed his default expression of a smug smile. He idly twirling his knife, with no apparent concern that I might escape him. 

“Where’s the rest of your little group? You guys have a bad breakup?” Gusto asks nonchalantly. I don’t know if he is genuinely blasé about all of this or if this is him projecting confidence. I wish I could act as calm but my heart is pounding and I feel as if no breath is left in my body.

“You could say that,” I respond. “Plus, you know, final four and all that.” 

“Too true.” He says. He gestures back where we came from. “How did you figure out fire?”

“Just a good way to take them all out at once,” I mumble to him. He nods in response and takes a step closer to me.

I want to reach for my knife but with a creeping sense of dread, I realize I don’t have it with me anymore. In my hurry to outrun the mutts I had dropped everything by the riverbank. My pack and all of my supplies are gone, including my knife.

I am completely empty handed.

“Well, you certainly got me out of a jam there.” Gusto grins and gives me a wink. 

I feel like such an idiot. Even after Heather’s betrayal, I went ahead and helped Gusto escape from the mutts. The thought hadn’t even occurred to me not to help him or leave him behind and now he is going to kill me. 

“You can owe me one,” I say softly, trying to keep the conversation light. He chuckles but shakes his head teasingly.

“I would but we’re down to the final four and all…” He shrugs with mock sadness.

I sigh and all I can say is, “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“You could say that.” 

Without warning, Gusto surges forward, forcefully pushing me back. Before I have time to react, Gusto has me pinned up against a tree. The tips of my feet just graze the ground as he holds me up with one arm, keeping us face to face. I yelp in surprise before I fruitlessly try to push him off. He just laughs and holds his knife up.

“Now, let’s see here. How should this go about?”

I shout out again and kick at him. He rests the knife against my neck and I am forced to still, lest I slit my own throat. 

“Such a shame, pretty thing like you. I always wanted to get some alone time with you. Not like this, of course. But just a chance to do this.”

To my utter shock, Gusto leans forward and kisses me hard on the mouth. I scream against his lips. I try to wiggle my head free but he keeps the knife in place so I have little room for escape. He pulls back from the kiss, satisfied. “That wasn’t too bad. Not too bad at all.”

I glare at him in disgust. Gusto gives me a terrifying smile before he kisses me again. 

This kiss is harder and sloppier. He loosens his grip on my body, allowing me to slide against the tree to the ground, but his body and the knife are enough to keep me in place.

I struggle against him, pushing and kicking at him, but he ignores me, breaking the kiss. He looks at me wistfully.

“Sorry, but I don’t think a romance is going to save District Twelve again. I’m gonna hate cutting up that pretty face of yours.” 

In a blind panic, I spit in his face. He grunts in irritation and instinctively moves his left hand to wipe his face. With my right arm free I grab the first body part I can. I snatch his ear and pull as hard as I can. 

The action surprises him and, as his head is pulled back, he moves the knife from my throat and I manage to free myself from between him and the tree, rushing out into the clearing. 

I do not get far before he tackles me to the ground. I cry out in pain as my side hits the rocky ground. He rolls my body over so I am facing him as he pins down. He clenches my left arm and pins my right wrist with his knee. 

I scream in pain as he pushes his knee into my wrist. I hear the bones crack under his weight and I think he has broken it.

Gusto gives me a disturbing smile. I groan in pain as he roughly pulls on my still sore left arm. He lays it flat against the ground. He holds up his knife, dangling it in front of my face.

“Let’s see here,” he says in a cheeky tone. “This little piggy went to market!”

Gusto suddenly swings the knife down and chops off my pinkie finger. 

Gusto laughs raucously as I scream. The pain shoots up my arm as blood spills out beside us.

“Sorry, princess. I guess you can’t put your little pinky up at any more tea parties,” Gusto jokes. He raises his knife again and proclaims, “This little piggy stayed home!”

He swings the knife down against my ring finger. It is not a clean cut, so he begins sawing at my bone. The pain stings and I feel myself getting weaker as I try to push him off of me. 

Gusto holds up my now three-fingered hand and waves it in my face. “Uh-oh. It looks like a wedding ring is impossible too.”

Exhausted from fear and pain, I stare up at this cruel boy with a look of horror. 

Gusto tsks, dropping my arm. “Now, none of that. How about a smile?”

He twirls the knife playfully and brings it up to my face. He traces the outline of my lips with the blade. He glides it across my face and lays it against my cheek, as if he is an artist imagining his painting. 

Acting on total impulse, I flop my head to the side, knocking into the knife. I feel it slice my cheek but the action startles Gusto and he drops it. I keep my head flat against the knife, pinning it so he can’t retrieve it. 

Gusto attempts to grab the knife again. His thick hands can’t get a hold of it and out of frustration he starts punching me anywhere he can reach. I cry out but I desperately keep my head down. 

Finally, he gives up and puts one of his hands on my throat while he reaches for a nearby rock. I realize that he has let my right hand free. As quick as I can, I grab the knife and swing it at Gusto.

A horrible noise echoes in my ears as the knife slices Gusto’s throat. Blood spurts from the wound as Gusto limply falls forward. 

I scamper out from under him and watch as he collapses to the ground. I feel tears running down my cheeks as Gusto coughs up some blood while the rest gushes from his throat. He weakly turns his head and his cold eyes look right at me. Finally, he stops breathing.

The cannon goes off and I drop the knife. I scoot backwards against a tree, bringing my knees up to my chest. I drop my head and scream and howl until no more sounds can come out. I stare at my hands, a broken wrist and a cut up, bloody stump. 

I force myself to calm down and breathe, trying to focus on the physical pain of my hands. I shakily look over at the bloody boy next to me. 

I wonder what’s taking the hovercraft so long. I realize it must be because of me. I take the bottom of my shirt and wrap up my bleeding hand. 

I crawl over and find what remains of my fingers. I scoop them up tenderly, and put them in one of my pants pockets. I spot Gusto’s pack beside a bush. I grab that too, pulling the heavy thing over my sore shoulders. 

As I walk by Gusto’s body, I grab his large hunting knife. I wipe it clean with Gusto’s shirt.

I have no clue what to feel as I stare at this boy. A boy I killed. And not even my first kill. 

_He was going to kill you,_ I think. _You would be dead._

I think about how he had kissed me. How I was his last kiss. How if I die here then he will be my last kiss too. How maybe in a different world he might have been kind and sweet. But instead he was raised to be hard and vicious. I think of how easily he could have been standing and looking at my lifeless body.

I stare at the corpse and realize I don’t feel anything. I don’t feel anything at all. 

I wipe the knife on his shirt again before leaving him behind.


	21. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 21

My hand won’t stop bleeding. 

I stagger aimlessly, feeling light headed from blood loss. My overshirt is too thin to stop a blood flow this heavy and I lost my fleece with the rest of my supplies. Distantly, I think I can hear the rushing water of the stream but I can’t concentrate on anything.

I trip and fall forward, barely catching the knife before I injure myself farther. I just sit there pathetically on the ground with no clue what to do now.

Something catches my eye and I tilt my head up to see better. I cry out in joy as a small parachute floats down in front of me. I impatiently wait for it to get closer before snatching it out of the air. I unwrap it quickly.

It’s a first aid kit! It is filled with better supplies than the small one our group had shared. There are antibacterial wipes, bandages, a small, miniature chilled cooler and two jars, one of a clear ointment and the other a pink paste. I take my fingers out of my pocket and slide them into the little cooler and put it in my new pack. 

My broken wrist is swollen, as are some of the fingers on the same hand. I pry the blood-covered leather gloves off my hands, wincing in pain. Despite the missing fingers on the left hand, using it hurts less than the right hand with the broken wrist so I use it more than the other, though I try to use both.

I clean my bloody hands with the wipes, trying to ignore the burning sensation in my wrist. I put the clear gel on what remains of my two fingers and I feel my hand going numb as a tingling sensation spreads across the area. I rub the pink paste on next before wrapping my hand tightly with bandages. I rub some of the clear medicine on my wrist and then on my sore shoulder. I smooth the paste across a few of the cuts I can feel on my face. 

With the blood flow stopped and the pain lessened, I am able to focus better. Now I can definitely hear the running water of the stream nearby. But I am still too exhausted to walk. It is getting late too so I might as well just stay put. I crawl over to a tree close by, slumping against the trunk tiredly.

With Gusto so recently killed, I assume the Gamemakers will be satisfied for a while and probably won’t send, I don’t know, giant moths or something to attack me. I doubt Foster would sneak up on me given his reaction to Heather’s betrayal, so Heather is the only person I have to worry about now. But I don’t know what happened to the fire Gusto and I set. If it spread far enough, it might have distracted or slowed Heather down. But I shrug it off and try to find a comfortable spot on the rugged ground for me to sit on.

I open up Gusto’s pack and start rifling through it to check what supplies I have inherited. There are quite a few things inside it. I am most interested in an ice axe to help rock climb and a blanket with a camouflage design. I curl up into a ball under the blanket and, exhausted, fall asleep.

* * *

The next morning the weather is muggy. I need water so I venture to find the stream. When I reach the riverbank, I look at my reflection in the water. I look so much worse than I could have ever imagined. My entire body is covered in dried blood. The worst is the left side of my head, which is coated by the blood that spilled from the knife slice on my cheek. My jaw is covered by bruises so large that it almost looks completely purple.

I need to wash all of this off of me. I strip down to my tank top and underwear. I let my hair down, placing the ribbon next to my clothes. I slowly lower my bruised and fatigued body into the water.

Sleeping on the rocky floor has made my injuries feel worse. Using the water as a mirror, I take my medical kit and begin cleaning up the larger wounds. My shoulder has been spasming more often but numbing it keeps the bursts of pain at bay. My stomach is cramping now and I can’t remember the last time I ate. I don’t think I could stomach anything anyway. 

I glance up the stream and see the glint of the Cornucopia in the sun. Looking at the mountaintop, I find myself humming. 

_Once I stood at the hill of the great high mountain  
That I wanted so much to climb  
And on top of this mountain was a beautiful fountain  
That flows with the water of life_

How long ago was that night? It feels like months have passed since that day. I can hardly believe that that girl singing and dancing and laughing that night was me. I can’t imagine having the energy to do something like that now. Not to mention, I could never bring myself to do something like that without Rory here with me.

I feel like I might start crying again but I still do not want anyone watching to see me doing it. I lie back and close my eyes as I float in the water. I think the action covers up the tears but I can hear my breathing get shaky so I start singing again to steady my voice.

_I fell down on my knees at the foot of this mountain  
I cried, "O Lord what must I do?  
I want to climb this mountain, I want to drink from this fountain  
That flows so clear in my view_

I sing the rest of the song to myself quietly, mumbling the words together. I keep singing until I am interrupted by the loud, echoing boom of the cannon.

So that’s it then. Down to the final two. 

I look up at the sky and sigh. I’d rather not wait hours to find out who the other tribute is so I take this as my cue to get moving again. I slip my pants on and I am only able to fit one glove back on. My arms are too damaged to put my overshirt back on. I can’t put my hair up either so I leave it down, tucking my ribbon in my pocket. 

I decide to head towards the Cornucopia, meaning I will have to hike back up the mountain. The trek back is long but I barely notice the time. “Great High Mountain” is stuck in my head now and I keep playing the song on loop.

_Then I heard a sweet voice from the top of this mountain  
Saying, "Child put your hand in mine"  
I started climbing slowly, "Watch your steps at the edges  
And take one step at a time”  
I started climbing upward taking one step at a time  
The higher I got the harder I climbed _

Eventually, the trees dwindle away to nothing. It is almost dusk when I reach the drop-off by the Cornucopia. The climb up the drop-off is painful for my arms. Fortunately, Gusto’s ice axe is a great help to keep me going. When I reach the top, I toss the knife over the edge. I kick my leg over and scoot myself up. 

I push my hair back absentmindedly, the strands long dry since my swim earlier today. I stand up and take in the plateau. I wander past the pedestals we used to enter the arena. 

I gaze at the Cornucopia, examining it in a way I didn’t have a chance to when the Games began. There’s still a few supplies littered around inside it. I assume most people were like me and never came back here. 

I stoop and pick up a pack in front of me. It is a pack of dried banana chips. I still don’t have any appetite but I have not eaten anything in so long. I plop down in front of the Cornucopia with my knife in my lap, nibbling on the chips while I wait. My jaw aches as I chew and my stomach feels as if it is going to reject the food at any moment. So much for a last meal. 

_I'm still climbing upward and my journey's almost ended  
I'm nearing the top and you ought to see the view  
Oh the water flows freely, there's enough to make you free  
So friend if you're thirsty climb this mountain with me _

I keep remembering that night I sang this with Rory. I also remember talking about the song with the others around the campfire. I had told Sprig:

“It’s about having to go through difficult trials to earn your reward. Then helping others along.”

I don’t know what to think of that now. Helping others along made everything worse for me here. Now I am so close to the end but I could die and all of these hardships would be for nothing. 

No. No, I can’t think like that. I have to do this. I may have failed to get Rory home but I am not going to fail again. I can’t. 

I take a large swig of water to force down a particularly difficult chip. I have just finished swallowing when I hear the scratch of heavy footsteps climbing up the rocky side behind the Cornucopia.

I can only hope it is Heather. She’s not much bigger than me so we could possibly have an equal match. My arms and hands are still sore beyond belief but she is probably exhausted if she just finished fighting Foster today. I just pray that Foster is not the one left. Even if I wasn’t so badly injured, I could never take on Foster in a fight. The only thing worse than the thought of Foster killing me is the thought of having to kill him. 

I stand and exhale. This is it. The final step between going home or staying in this arena forever. I hear a thump as the tribute crosses onto the plateau. I ready my knife, as the footsteps get closer. I step out and walk around the side of the Cornucopia. 

I have barely enough time to hope that it is Heather when I come face to face with Foster.


	22. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 22

Foster and I stare at each other. His face is shell-shocked as he holds his knife at the ready. He is caked with what looks like fresh blood and he has a nasty looking gash on one of his knees that is making him limp awkwardly.

I sigh dejectedly. “You killed Heather?”

Foster nods, lowering his knife. “I finally cornered her. We fought for a while but she was weakened or something so I got the better of her. I crushed her skull.”

I grimace, picturing Heather’s head getting smashed the same way she bashed in Paisley’s. I notice my knife is still poised so I lower it to my side. This is the worst possible scenario that could have happened.

Foster looks me in the eye cautiously and says, “I saw Gusto in the sky last night. Did you kill him?”

“Yes, I got him. Oh, and he kissed me.”

Foster looks surprised at how blunt I am being. No point in hiding anything now though.

“I guess you were right about him flirting.”

“I wish I’d been wrong.” Foster says. He looks absolutely defeated. I suspect I look the same. 

I hum in response, swinging my knife distractedly. “I was hoping Heather killed you.” 

Foster shrugs. “What can I say? I had a grudge.”

I smirk despite myself. “You really did. Why were you so offended?”

Foster smiles too, looking a little sheepish. “I don’t really know. When she talked to me in training...I don’t know. There was something about her, you know? She kinda reminded me of my sister.”

Whatever I was expecting Foster to say, it wasn’t that. “You have a sister?” 

He nods, then adds, “Well, I have two. Plus my brother. They’re older than me except for my one sister.”

“How old is she?”

“Thirteen.” He gets a far off look in his eye, lost in thought. 

How many days have I spent side by side with Foster and I never asked him about himself, never tried to learn anything about him outside of the Games. But then, to know Foster is to like him. I think a part of me knew that I had to keep him at a distance because he is so easy to like and to emphasize with. It was as if I knew I would end up in a situation not too different from this. God, I wish I was facing off against Heather or any other tribute right now.

“Well,” I say, “If we are being honest here, I still don’t want to kill you.”

“Same here.” 

We are at a standstill. I wonder how long we have. Would the Gamemakers send mutts or fire or have the whole arena collapse in on itself if we don’t start attacking each other? What are they thinking right now? I wonder what the people watching are thinking. I wonder what my parents are thinking. 

With that thought of my parents, my father’s words come back to me. 

_Once you’ve made the decision, don’t hesitate. Do it._

But what if I can’t make that decision? 

I sigh again and step closer to Foster. “I liked being your ally.”

“I liked it too.”

I am standing in front of Foster now. Neither of us dares move. I break his eye contact and stare down at my feet. All of a sudden Foster unexpectedly sweeps me up in a big hug. 

I am caught off guard and squeak in surprise. He is so tall that I am face to face with his chest. We stand like that for a moment, in each other’s arms. 

Then I thrust my knife forward and stab Foster in the stomach.

At the same time I feel a sharp pain in my side as Foster’s own knife slices through me. 

We both cry out in surprise and hurt. With my head still buried into his chest, I feel him start to breathe heavily. We both sink to our knees, still in a tight embrace. I pull the long hunting knife out of Foster’s body. He gasps loudly as he bleeds.

“Well,” Foster pauses, groaning in pain. “Now what?”

I lean my head back to look up at his face. “Well…I don’t want to stab you again.” 

“Me neither.”

“I guess…” It is difficult to speak and I stumble over my breaths as I toss the knife aside. “I guess we just wait until one of us dies.”

Foster agrees, “Yeah. Or until the Gamemakers get impatient and strike one of us with lightning.”

Maybe we are delirious from everything, but we both crack up laughing at that. Quickly, I realize that laughing is very painful when a knife is burrowed inside you. For some reason that just makes me giggle harder, which morphs into a cough. I am definitely delirious.

I sigh and rest my head back on his chest. Our hug tightens. Something is oddly comforting about just having another person here with you, even if that person just stabbed you.

“Thanks,” I murmur, “For being my ally. You really helped me.”

“You were a good ally too. You really looked after that kid.”

I whimper at the thought of Rory. “I wanted him to win so bad.”

“I know. He was a good kid. He should’ve made it. He could’ve won.” 

Foster pets my hair comfortingly. It reminds me of sitting with Rory, his head on my shoulder and I just miss him so much. 

“He reminded me of my sister too,” Foster admits. “When you first told me how you were trying to help him, how you wanted him to go home to his family, right? All I could think of is how if she ever was here, how I would want someone like you to be looking after her.” 

I am getting lightheaded. Foster is the only thing holding me up anymore and now he is beginning to droop as well. 

“I heard what you said to him as he died,” Foster whispers. “It made me homesick like you wouldn’t believe. I wanna see my home again.”

I murmur in agreement. I look out at the rocky, open plateau and I feel almost agoraphobic. I hate this mountain, I hate this entire arena. I don’t want to die here in this awful place.

“I wanna see my parents.” Foster moans in pain. Our embrace is getting wet and sticky as I feel his blood soaking through onto my shirt. “And my sister and my brother.”

“Oh, my mother,” I say sadly. “Oh, I don’t know what will happen to her if I don’t go home. And my father…”

“I wanna see my friends. I just want to hang out under the old bridge and not do anything for hours and then watch the sunset.”

Foster can’t hold us up any longer and we both topple over onto the ground. Both of our breathing is shallow and we are incredibly woozy. Now I can feel our blood seeping out from under us.

“I want to play the piano again,” I continue as we lay together. “I want to see Rory’s family. I want to tell them how sorry I am that I failed them. Tell them that I really did try to bring him home. I want to apologize for being so useless.”

“You’re not useless.” Foster tells me firmly.

“If I hadn’t gotten in an alliance with you all, I would have died on day three. I wasn’t any help.”

“That’s not-”

I shake my head. “I had one goal! I was going to help Rory win and I failed.” 

“It’s my fault Rory died,” Foster interjects. “If I hadn’t gotten in an alliance with Heather she wouldn’t’ve led us into that trap.”

I shake my head again but I am so weak I cannot lift it, just rolling my head on the ground. “She fooled all of us. It just as easily could have been me or Sprig or anyone.” 

We are both silent for a moment. I wonder again what the people watching this are thinking. I recall standing in the town square last year, the whole district holding their breath as Katniss held out the berries to Peeta. I had been holding Rory’s hand then, standing alongside his family. 

I had been holding Gale’s hand too. I am surprised at the feeling of longing that comes over me. I have gotten used to longing for Rory’s presence but I realize how much I would like to see Gale again too. Thinking about holding their hands makes me reach out to take a hold of Foster’s hand. 

“I just want to apologize,” I say again. “I just…need to get that off my chest, you know?”

Foster nods gravely. “Yeah. I wish I had the chance to go back. I was never much of a talker. I wish I’d had the chance to tell people what I really feel.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I was never much of a talker. I realize how much I have left unsaid in my short life. I want to tell people how I really feel. 

“My sister,” Foster says abruptly. “Her name’s Eila. I thought Heather reminded me of her but…you do, Madge.” 

“Really?” I ask softly.

“She’s the sweetest girl in the world,” Foster continues. “She kinda looks like you. Only, her hair’s darker. But her eyes…you have such nice eyes.” 

I look over into Foster’s eyes. His eyes are pure gray. I suddenly feel as if I am back home. We both do. 

“I’m sorry, Foster.”

“I’m sorry, Madge.”

Foster pulls my hand up to his lips and kisses it softly. I pull his hand to my lips and do the same.

“Goodbye,” He whispers, closing his eyes.

I close my eyes and the world goes dark.

“Goodbye.”


	23. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 23

The cannon’s boom startles me awake. My eyes flutter open and my vision is blurry as I try to find my bearings. Distantly, I hear the sounds of crowds cheering over the loudspeakers. The trumpets blare as the voice of announcer Claudius Templesmith echoes out. “Congratulations! Ladies and Gentlemen, I am pleased to announce our Victor…”

I am still delirious so it takes me a moment to comprehend what is happening. I hear my name announced as the new Victor. 

I won the Hunger Games. I am still alive.

I stare up at the sky in disbelief. When I entered the Games, I thought this arena would be the last thing I ever saw. I was supposed to die here. Yet, somehow, I am still here. 

I attempt to sit up but the pain in my abdomen is too great. I gasp and fall back, flicking my eyes down to see the knife still burrowed into my side. Slowly, I regain my senses and recognize the presence beside me.

If I’m still alive, that means Foster is dead.

This all feels so wrong. I can still feel his hand entwined with mine. I can still feel the warmth of his body heat. He can’t be dead. 

But he is dead. Because I killed him. 

I use all my strength to lift my head and gaze over at Foster beside me. His face is still so close to mine, not having moved a muscle since we closed our eyes. A small, stupid part of me hopes his eyes will open again. Laying with our heads side to side like this, I can almost forget how tall he is. He really is the tallest person I have ever met.

Or was. He _was_ the tallest person I have ever met.

I forcefully turn my head away and blink back tears. I want to get away from all of this but I can’t bring myself to let go of his hand. I can’t focus on anything around me except for his hand, like I am in a dream and it is the only thing tethering me to reality. 

Above me I can see a hovercraft fly into view. I am still so tired and I slowly pass out again as the ladder is being lowered. 

In the darkness, no sounds are clear and all of my senses are numb. Yet I still feel them pry Foster and mine hands apart. 

* * *

There is a very loud, annoying beeping noise right in my ear. 

I grunt as I gradually wake up. I am in a hospital bed, situated in the center of a large room with big, empty spaces. Its white walls are piercingly bright under the fluorescent lights and I groan as my eyes adjust. I have IV drips in my arms attached to a monitor, which is the source of the beeping. 

Haymitch is lounging by a window. He sits up, looking at me wide-eyed.

“Hi,” I greet him, my voice hoarse. 

“Hey there.”

“They let you in here?” I ask confusedly. “I thought they would want to film our reunion.”

“They want to film your reunion with your mentor.” Haymitch gives me a cheeky smirk. “But I’m not your mentor, sweetheart.” 

I chuckle, the noise dramatically loud in the cavernous room. Haymitch comes over to my bedside. He helps me sit up, cupping the back of my head to support me. As I scoot up, I notice my hands are fixed up. I have a splint on my broken wrist and a cast on my other hand, supported by a real sling. I can’t feel anything through my pain medication but they look almost healed.

I hold my right hand out in front of me in awe. “How long have I been out?”

“About a week. They were starting to get impatient and wanted to force you to wake up. Don’t worry though, I stood guard for you.” He puffs his chest dramatically, which makes me smile.

Haymitch gives me a long look and his grin drops as he asks, “How’re you feeling? Really?” 

I sigh, the action uncomfortable with my dry throat. “I don’t know, Haymitch. I honestly have no idea how to feel right now.”

Haymitch nods as if I make perfect sense. He looks like he wants to say more but we are interrupted by a nurse entering the room. The nurse beams at us and claps his hands. “I thought I saw on the camera that you were awake. Fantastic!” 

I glance at Haymitch out of the corner of my eye. He is scowling at the nurse as he jauntily calls out for someone to join him. This nurse has bright purple hair that matches her hospital scrubs, giving her an unsettling monochromatic appearance. It is a blunt reminder that while I am out of the arena, I am still stuck in the Capitol. 

Everything becomes hectic after that as doctors and nurses rush in and out of my room. Haymitch stays with me throughout and his presence is surprisingly comforting against the frenzy of Capitol visitors in the room. They crowd around my bed and begin asking me dozens of questions, only about half of which are actually about my health. The others start asking about the Games or my costumes for the pre-game week. One of them even asks for an autograph, to which I merely raise my bandaged hands, silently pointing out that I can’t really hold a pen right now.

After about an hour, an Avox drops off some food for me to eat. I blink at the strange dish of brown mush. I am told that I have been served a nut-based paste with a glass of enriched milk. Another nurse explains to me that I need to eat specialized meals to ease myself back into proper eating habits. Unfortunately, I gorge myself too quickly and almost immediately vomit it back up. Then I am told I have to eat again to ensure I receive the nutrition. Each bite is nauseating as I slowly force the food down.

After my disgusting dinner, I am given an injection to put me back to sleep. I recognize the medicine as morphling and a spike of irrational fear comes over me as I am given it. It reminds me of my mother, lounging in her bed days at a time after her morphling.

It is just one dose, I tell myself firmly. I am not going to get hooked after one dose. 

I still feel worried. I turn to Haymitch.

“Will you be here tomorrow?” I ask him, my tongue heavy in my mouth.

Haymitch blinks at me, a strange look in his eye. But he tells me, “Of course. I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

* * *

Sure enough, Haymitch is there the next day. He helps distract me while I struggle to keep down my breakfast and stays close by when the doctors examine me and give me a full physical. 

According to the doctors, while my shoulder was “set decently enough”, I was too active using it and I had severe nerve damage they had to repair with surgery. I am ordered to “be more careful from now on”, as if I hadn’t been fighting for my life in an arena.

I received some cosmetic enhancements while I was dormant, including something called a full body polish that removed all of my scars and the bruising. My malnourishment had made my hair too thin and it had started to fall out so hair extensions were bonded to my head to make my hair appear more full and luxurious. 

“We also added extensions to your eyelashes!” One of the cosmetic surgeons informs me. Once they point that out, I notice that I can now feel my lashes brushing against my skin when I blink.

None of these tricks can hide how frail I have become. Even with the body polish, there is something off about my skin, which feels dry and brittle. I am so thin that it looks like my bones jut out through my skin at odd angles. My cheeks are hollow and there are deep circles under my sunken eyes.

My main concern is how my hands have healed. They were able to reattach my ring finger but my pinky has been replaced with an artificial digit. Selfishly, all I can think about is whether or not I can still play the piano. I am reassured that I should be capable if I keep up with my physical therapy exercises.

I must not look convinced because one doctor adds in an attempt to cheer me up, “You are quite lucky it was only two fingers.”

Someone else chimes in, “It’s really fortunate that it happened to your left hand too, since you are right handed!” 

“Yeah,” Haymitch adds in a flat tone, “You are truly blessed you can still use your middle finger to flip people off.” 

That startles a laugh from me as the Capitol medics bristle in surprise. Haymitch just grins at me.

Haymitch stays with me through two days of questions and examinations. On the third day he informs me that I have been declared healthy enough to be discharged. I get scrambled eggs for breakfast and it is my first real meal in weeks. I still have to eat everything as slow as possible to avoid throwing it up again-eating it once is hard enough. Apparently, I had reached that point of hunger where a person starts to lose their appetite and returning to a normal diet is difficult. 

After breakfast, Haymitch tells me that my ceremony will be held that evening and all of my previous excitement of leaving the hospital disappears. A night of smiling for cameras and recapping the Games sounds absolutely miserable.

“I’d rather eat more nut paste,” I quip to Haymitch. 

He just smirks as he rolls his eyes. “Trust me, you’ll do fine. They all love you.”

“Can’t imagine why,” I say self-deprecatingly.

I expect Haymitch to continue snarking at my expense but instead his expression goes blank. He clears his throat then says, “It goes quicker than you think.”

I get my cast removed, though I have to keep the splint on my bad wrist. I will also need to keep my left arm in a sling to ensure my shoulder is okay, but the Gamemakers have decided that I won’t wear the sling on camera. I’m not sure why since I was cradling my arm in a bloody jacket for half of the Games but this isn’t a battle worth fighting. 

I am given a pair of scrubs to wear instead of my hospital gown. Haymitch leads me to a room where everyone is waiting; Katniss, Peeta, Effie and Cinna. I know cameras must be recording this but I don’t give them much thought as I greet everyone. I am happy to see them but I can’t muster any enthusiasm beyond a light smile. 

Peeta and Cinna each greet me first. They hug me cautiously, mindful of any lingering damage. 

Effie’s eyes are watery and she starts fanning her face with her hands. “Oh, I am so proud. I just knew you had it in you. I said you had star power, didn’t I?” Effie turns to the others to back up her claim, which they do lukewarmly. 

Katniss’s face is blank as she hugs me. 

“I wanted to thank you for the first aid kit,” I say, gesturing to my hands. 

Katniss nods stiffly. I don’t know why, but things feel slightly awkward between us. I pretend not to notice.

“Well, you earned a lot of sponsors,” Katniss responds. “You didn’t really need my help most of the time.” 

I guess that is true since I only received two sponsor gifts during the Games. But I didn’t need much because I spent a majority of my time dependent on my alliance.

Katniss leans in to hug me again. I am surprised but accept it. She pats my back and murmurs, too low for anyone else to hear, “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Thank you.”

“Really, I am. I know I was rude before but...I guess I was nervous about everything.”

I nod. I remember Katniss the night before I went into the arena. She had been so distant the week before and things had been so strained between us.

“It was just easier to push you away. If you died and…”

I cut Katniss off by pulling out of the hug. I meet her eyes and nod again so she knows I understand. And I do get it. I watched her in the Games last year and I had to watch Rory-

I freeze at the thought Rory and a horrible, anguished feeling overwhelms me. I firmly tell myself not to think about him. I stubbornly push them away from my thoughts and focus instead on the others in the room with me. 

Effie is rambling something about how popular I am with the Capitol, which has luckily distracted everyone away from me and Katniss. She spots me looking at her and rushes over to my side and pats the top of my head adoringly. 

“But, oh, what a marvelous debut in the Games! Everyone loves you. Truly, you are everything we want a Victor to be.”

After Effie’s pronouncement, Katniss tenses up and she shoots a look over to Haymitch, who is frowning. I don’t know what is going one with my mentors but, honestly, I cannot bring myself to care. I am still too focused on trying not to think about Rory or Foster or anything else about the Hunger Games.


	24. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 24

Cinna escorts me out to get ready for the ceremony tonight. I am greeted by my prep team, who show no caution when they hug me. The three of them gush over me and seem genuinely excited to see me again. I try to reciprocate their excitement but once again the best I can muster is a fake smile. 

After I shower, we start the usual commotion to get me ready. The team starts babbling about how wonderful I was in the Games. However, I start to notice that they never bring up anything I did in the Games but rather how I looked. It’s not how well I escaped the mutts it is, “You were so graceful when you were running!” It’s not how I made it to the final two, it is “You looked so beautiful on top of the mountain!” And there is definitely no mention of me getting my shoulder dislocated or having my fingers cut off.

I am more than a little confused by this. I know the Capitol citizens adore good looking tributes but I never thought that would supersede the action in the arena. I wonder if this is what Effie meant about how popular I am in the Capitol. That I am ‘everything they want a Victor to be’. 

I shoot Cinna a look after one of them mentions yet again how lovely I was in the arena. He interjects that I will look great tonight, which successfully sidetracks the team into discussing how amazing this look is going to be. 

The prep team adds the shimmer to my skin again and coats my hair in the gold dust. My hair is curled and pulled back from my face into a half updo with the rest tumbling down my back. The hair is decorated with white flowers and jewels, from strands of pearls to bright diamond stars. Cinna then weaves in my original white ribbon through the twist, making the ragged cloth blend in. 

My outfit is an elegant white halter dress made of a thin material with a low back and a slit up the side. While my last gown emphasized my body and curves, this one hangs loosely in an effort to hide my scrawny, sickly body. The decadence is still there though, as the outfit has heaps of mini diamonds sewn into the fabric. I have matching diamond stockings that catch the light when my legs slip through the dress’s slit. I literally sparkle from head to toe. 

“You have transformed from bituminous coal into a diamond,” Cinna jokes, resting his hands on my shoulders comfortingly. 

I look at myself but I can’t appreciate how nice I look now. All I can think of is that you can’t make a diamond out of coal. Yet, it exemplifies all of this perfectly. All of this is a lie. I’m no diamond or champion. I just happened to survive a little longer than Foster. 

Just like thinking about Rory earlier, thinking about Foster is a punch in the gut. In fact, it is not that different from the feeling I had when his knife dug into my side. 

Stop it. Stop thinking about this. 

Again, I force everything out of my mind until I can keep a level head. I don’t know how I’m going to handle watching a recap of the Games tonight. I will just have to keep doing what I have been doing and force myself not to think about any of this.

* * *

I wait underneath the stage for the ceremony to begin. Effie is in her element instructing everyone where to go and what to do. I am a little impressed at how organized she is. 

Haymitch stops by before he has to go upstairs. He and Peeta will be seated off to the side while Katniss will be introduced as my official mentor. Haymitch gives me a concerned look and says, “Hang in there, okay? It’s just one more night.”

I thank him as Effie spots him. She shrieks at him before grabbing his elbow to hurriedly shove him away. He rolls his eyes but lets himself be pulled away by her.

The evening begins right on schedule as Caesar opens the show. My team is introduced one by one, the applause getting more frenzied with each new person. By the time Katniss enters, the crowd is screaming. 

I sigh and square my shoulders then wince as I remember how sensitive my shoulder still is. The discomfort temporarily distracts me and I am caught off guard as the platform I am standing on raises me up to the stage. For a moment, I am back in the Games, rising up to enter the arena. The stage lights shine into my eyes and it reminds me of the glow of the Cornucopia on the plateau. This all hits at the worst moment and I am standing there, shell-shocked, in front of a screaming crowd chanting my name. 

I inhale deeply to steady myself and force my feet forward and get away from the platform. I keep myself moving and I walk to Caesar. His greeting is drowned out by the crowd so he gestures for us to sit while they settle down. I catch a glimpse of myself on the monitor and again see the unreal, ethereal girl that looks so much like me yet not like me at all. I only recognize myself because I have my hands clasped in their usual position in my lap. I can just discern the flesh-colored splint still wrapped on my wrist.

“So,” Caesar smiles knowingly at me, “Margaret.” 

I force myself to grin and play along. “Please, Caesar. Call me Madge.” 

Caesar chortles as the audience cheers in recognition. 

Luckily, the interview is not too long. It is mostly Caesar just pointing out how beautiful I look and how incredible I was in the Games. It is easy to blush and smile and say nice, bland things in response. The only difficult part is when Caesar talks about that “lovely song” I sang and I have to force myself not to think of Rory singing along with me.

The recap is unbearable. Three horrible hours spent watching the worst weeks of my life. The first part, spent on the pregame week, is awful enough but I am not prepared for when the Games start. 

Everything flashes by. I meet up with Rory and join the alliance. I talk with Foster as we keep watch. We dance, laughing together. 

Random details are filled in in the worst way possible. The girls from District 3 and District 9 died on the same day because they were in an alliance. The Careers corner them. Gusto slices up one of their faces and again I flash back to that moment when he had me pinned on the ground, tracing his knife along my face. 

It turns out Truss had lied and the boy from District 4 was not tracking him. Quite the opposite, I see. Truss spots him, spends a day following him, waits until he falls asleep and then stabs him in with his spear-the same spear he killed Rory with.

The avalanche surprises us and crushes Paisley. Watching Heather kill her feels worse than watching it in person did since the camera cuts to multiple angles to show the death in detail. We face off against the Careers and I watch Heather distract us from Sprig as he dies off to the side.

I dig my nails into my palms. Here we go.

Heather betrays us and I shrink into the seat as I see in detail just how Truss cornered and murdered Rory before stepping back in the hopes of catching me. What a coward. 

They play my speech to Foster, where I resolve to win the Games. The crowd cheers but I cannot even react anymore. 

The scene continues after I leave. Foster watches me go, then kneels next to Rory. He lays his hand on Rory’s forehead and says, “I’m sorry, kid.” He looks back to where I left and whispers to Rory, “Don’t worry, okay? I’m gonna take care of her.”

Well, that is disturbing in hindsight. His knife came very close to taking care of me, after all.

They play my confrontation with Gusto in full. The cameras highlight all the details that slipped by me in the moment and I have to see Gusto’s face in a close-up that lasts way too long. Mercifully, all that is left is watching Foster fight Heather before the end. Foster looks mortified as he bashes her head in. I expect to feel some pleasure watching Heather die, but all I feel is apathy. 

Then he and I are on top of the mountain, facing off by the Cornucopia. I stab him and my long hunting knife slashes him right through his gut. It is messy and horrible and me pulling the knife out only makes it worse.

Then Foster stabs me with his knife. It is clean and barely burrowed in my side. 

My mouth drops at the ongoing clip. It all becomes so clear. Foster never intended to kill me. Injure me, yes, but he had to cover his tracks. He told Rory he would take care of me and he had meant that sincerely.

What have I done? 

The recap cuts back to a shot of me before when I was waiting for him to arrive. I am standing tall, looking out over the plateau. I had recently washed up so I appear clean with my hair down and blowing in the wind. The editing makes it look like this was the moment when I won the Games rather than me bleeding out on the ground while clinging to a corpse’s hand. The audience eats it up, stamping and hollering in joy. Again, this is all a lie. I am not a diamond, I am just a dull piece of black coal.

No, I’m worse than that. I’m a murderer.

I feel sick to my stomach. My eyes fill with the tears I had been holding back. 

No, I tell myself, No, stop thinking about this. 

I force the thoughts of Foster away. I focus on my hands in my lap, on the ornate armrests of the chair, on Caesar’s bejeweled shoes, on anything I can. Then, slowly, I feel a calmness come over me. It reminds me of that emptiness I felt staring down at Gusto’s body. It reminds me of that cold feeling I had when Rory died. It reminds me of that tingling, numbing sensation I felt from the pain medication in the arena. 

The recap ends and Caesar is turning to look at me. 

“So Madge,” Caesar says, “How do you feel right now?”

Then I smile. To Caesar’s clear surprise, I’m laughing. 

“To be perfectly honest, Caesar, I don’t feel anything at all right now.”


	25. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 25

I go through the rest of the evening in a haze.

My mentors join us and Caesar stands up to greet them. Peeta says something to Caesar that exhilarates the audience but I'm not listening. Haymitch offers his hands to me and helps me stand up. Haymitch notices my legs are shaking so he wraps his arm around my shoulders and I numbly lean against him to keep myself upright.

Caesar congratulates Katniss on her successful first mentorship which she demurs by saying she could never have done it without Peeta's support, which makes the audience sigh adoringly.

Caesar makes chit chat with everyone before Peeta speaks up. "I don't want to take over your night Madge, but I was wondering if I could borrow Katniss for a moment?"

Peeta does not wait for an answer, taking Katniss's hand and leading her center stage. The crowd buzzes in anticipation as Peeta faces Katniss, his smile bright. As Peeta begins talking, Haymitch pulls me aside with the rest of our entourage, using his body to semi-block me from view.

"Keep it up," Haymitch whispers to me. "Just a bit longer."

I nod as the audience gasps. I peer over and see Peeta down on one knee to ask Katniss to marry him. Katniss beams at him, nodding vigorously. "Yes! Yes, of course!"

The audience screams in joy, our prep team the loudest of all from their side of the stage. Caesar is exclaiming into his microphone. He rushes center stage excitedly and almost knocks into Katniss in his haste. She and Peeta hug, Katniss burying her head in Peeta's shoulder while he kisses her temple.

The evening becomes a celebration of Katniss and Peeta and I couldn't be more grateful. All that is left for me to do is be crowned by President Snow, but even that is overshadowed by the engagement as he stops to congratulate the pair. I am given my crown swiftly, the president barely looking at me, aside from a lingering glance at the Mockingjay pin.

At the Victory Banquet, again the attention is shared between me and the newly engaged couple. Many Capitol citizens greet me, though they have little to say beyond mentioning how lovely I am or how great I was in the Games but I don't understand what they see in me. All I saw on that screen tonight was a pathetic, callous murderer.

Even now they talk of how beautiful I look, not noticing how frail my body is or the way I can barely use my arms lest I injure them again. I wonder how attractive they would find me if they knew how close I am to throwing up the little food I've had to eat.

Haymitch and Effie stay close to me throughout the night. Despite the fact that she also keeps rambling on about how spectacular I am, Effie is a great guard against some of the more aggressive people. Whenever someone comes too close for comfort, giving me appraising looks or whispering innuendo to me, Effie swoops in to divert their attention or just get me away from them.

Haymitch, meanwhile, helps me keep my energy up throughout the party, guiding me through conversations and whispering tips and reassurances in my ear. I think he more than anyone noticed how difficult the recap was for me. In fact, Haymitch has been a great support system to me since I won, which I never would have predicted beforehand. He barely acknowledged me during the pregame week and spent most of his time drinking and keeping to himself. I had just assumed he felt uncomfortable around me after I caught him arguing with Katniss on the train. Now I think he might have been acting similarly to Katniss and kept himself distant from the tributes about to die.

That night, after we return to our suite, I hug Peeta and Katniss, thanking them. I know they probably would have gotten engaged anyway, but I appreciate them doing it tonight. When I pull back, Katniss is giving me a shrewd look but doesn't say anything as I go to my room.

I strip my decadent clothes off and shower quickly before collapsing onto my bed. Immediately, everything feels wrong to me. I shift around but something feels weird about my mattress, like I am the character from _The Princess and the Pea_ or something.

I sit up, putting my feet on the floor just to feel a different surface. I feel instant relief. All that time sleeping on the rocky mountain in the arena has made the overstuffed, luxurious bed feel unnatural. I must not have noticed when I was sleeping in the hospital bed because of the painkillers.

I grab a pillow and spread out across the floor to go to sleep. It's not comfortable but it feels like the right place for me.

* * *

The next day is my exit interview.

My prep team gleefully set the crown on my head, weaving my hair around to combine it into my hairstyle. Cinna dismisses them and helps me into a yellow dress, tied together with bows on my shoulders and layers of thin fabric flowing down the side. Combined with my hair and the crown, I look like a golden statue, similar to the ones that decorate the Capitol's streets. Cinna pins the Mockingjay pin to my dress and it blends in so perfectly it almost vanishes.

"You are meant to match the pin," Cinna explains. "Like the pin, you are a songbird."

"A songbird?"

"A canary in a coal mine." He grins.

I try to return Cinna's smile but it comes off as a grimace. Cinna glances at me as he adjusts my bows. "Are you feeling alright, Madge?"

"Of course."

Cinna quirks his eyebrow at me. I sigh, wanting to change the subject. I turn from him, glancing at my reflection in the mirror. I look at the crown resting atop my head.

"You know," I say, touching the crown, "I always imagined this was heavy. Just another burden a Victor has to carry. But it's actually very light."

Cinna comes up behind me and lays a comforting hand on my shoulder. He says softly, "For within the hollow crown that rounds the mortal temples of a king."

I make eye contact with Cinna through the reflection. "What's that?"

"Shakespeare. Have you ever read him?"

I nod. Papa has some of his works in our library but I do not recognize this one.

Cinna clarifies, "All it means is that the glory of the crown cannot change our fates. He meant it with royalty, of course, but I think we all can appreciate it."

"What, that we're all going to die?"

Cinna frowns. "Of course we are. But it's more about fighting fate. We can't change the past."

He leans in closer and tells me firmly but kindly, "You earned your survival, Madge. Don't spend your life regretting that."

Cinna cups my shoulder comfortingly before turning away. Through the mirror, I watch him exit the room, leaving behind the golden girl and her hollow crown.

* * *

"Have you thought about your Victory Tour at all?" Caesar asks me.

Definitely not. I can barely handle thinking about this interview. But I just giggle with Caesar and say, "I still haven't comprehended that I'm a Victor at all."

"Well, I certainly want you back in the Capitol very soon," Caesar sighs dramatically, rubbing his cheek. "I guess I will just have to relive that one kiss until then."

The joke makes everyone in the room chuckle and I blush at the memory. Behind the cameras, Effie gestures exaggeratedly at her face, meaning I must have slipped back into the "frozen deer" look she hates. I force a big smile and relax back into my seat until Effie looks satisfied.

Like everything else, the interview is a blur. Caesar keeps the topics light, asking about my talent and what I plan to do once I get back home. Despite its perfect camouflage, near the end of the interview, Caesar points out the Mockingjay pin. Behind him, Haymitch and Katniss give him dual glares.

"I seem to recall that pin on a certain District Twelve tribute last year," Caesar says. "Did our soon to be Mrs. Mellark give that to you?"

Katniss makes a face at being referred to like that. Peeta lays a hand over her shoulders, a gesture both comforting and precautionary.

"Actually, Caesar," I inform him, "I gave this to Katniss last year. She gave it back to me for my Games."

"Really?" Caesar chuckles, "Well, isn't that something! Tell me, why did you give it to Katniss?"

"It seemed like a good token to me," I tell him, deciding not to go into detail about it like I did when Katniss had asked me this. However, Caesar looks eager for more so I add, "It was my aunt's token when she was a tribute."

Katniss and Peeta exchange a quick look. Behind them, Effie's does a double take so fast I am surprised her wig stayed on.

"Was she?" Caesar leans forward in interest. "When was this?"

"The fiftieth Games."

"Ah, the Quarter Quell!" Caesar exclaims. "Fantastic year! Why, I believe that was the game our very own Haymitch Abernathy won, is it not?"

Now Katniss and Peeta look more surprised than Effie. One of the cameras turns to Haymitch, who gives it an awkward nod.

"You know, we have another Quarter Quell coming up," Caesar says eagerly. "Hard to believe it's been twenty-five years, right Haymitch?"

Haymitch blinks, looking as if he is at a loss for words. Peeta steps in, cheerfully clapping Haymitch on the back. Haymitch starts and seems to remember himself.

"Yeah, well, the years seem to have flown by," Haymitch says with a forced chuckle.

I laugh along with him, allowing the attention to return to me and the cameras turn away from Haymitch.

"Well, this pin must be great luck for District Twelve," Caesar says. "It's been in three Games and brought four Victors home! It's certainly let the odds be in your favor."

"Yes," I say softly, glancing down as I trace the pin fondly with my finger. "Yes, it really has."

The interview wraps up not too long after that. As he is saying goodbye, Caesar reaches to shake my hand before remembering he can't jostle my wrist. He snickers at himself and instead brings my hand up to his lips for a kiss.

He kisses my hand, just like-

_No. Stop thinking about that._

Effie claps her hands giddily once we return to our suite, talking grandly about how wonderful the interview was. Haymitch, Cinna, Peeta and Katniss set off down the hallway, having what looks to be a serious discussion. I try to listen but Effie wraps her arm around my shoulders and ushers me to the dining room table, beginning to talk about the preparations we need to begin for returning home and the Victory Tour.

I figure they were probably just discussing wedding plans and I try to tune into whatever Effie is talking about.

* * *

The next morning, I wake up early. I still can't rest comfortably on my bed so I slept on the floor again. I should probably moving because if I stay still too long the Gamemakers might send some-

I freeze, horrified. I can't believe I just did that. I know I'm not in the arena, why did I instinctively start behaving like that? I have been working so hard to not think about the Games but these random moments keep overwhelming me and I lose control of everything.

There is a knock at my door. I assume it is Effie coming to collect me for something but instead an Avox opens it. She is holding a lime-green folder that is most likely filled with Effie's itinerary for the day. She pauses, surprised, when she sees me sprawled out on the floor.

I sit up quickly. "Sorry, I just..."

To my surprise, she peers back into the hallway before stepping into the room, shutting the door behind her. She sets the folder on my nightstand before holding up her hands and moving her fingers. I recognize the sign language alphabet that Sprig and Paisley had taught us.

"Y-O-U O-K?"

"Um, yeah, I just wanted to sleep on the ground for now." It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud but I'm too flustered to think of a better excuse. The Avox remains standing, staring down at me on the floor.

"Uh, I'm sorry I don't know..." I trail off uncomfortably.

She points at me and signs, "T-A-L-K."

"I'm sorry, but I can't really use my hands right now," I nod down to the splint and sling on my arms. She gives a half-smile before tapping her ear.

Right, of course. She can hear me just fine.

She signs again, this time laying her hands on her shoulders before pulling them away into fists. She follows this by fingerspelling, "B-R-A-V-E", before repeating the action.

"Well...thank you," I say hesitantly. I try to turn away from her but she taps her foot to make me look back at her. She signs the word "boy".

Rory.

That horrible, painful feeling hits me again. This feels even more overwhelming when it is back to back with my slip-up moments earlier.

She signs "sorry" to me, her face sympathetic. I swallow, trying to breathe evenly.

"Why are you talking to me?" I bite out, hating the way my voice cracks.

She signs again and this time I comprehend what she is saying. She signs "Good" and "person" and then points at me with a determined look on her face. Then she spells, "R-E-M-E-M-B-E-R" before repeating her signs.

I feel like I can't breathe. Before exiting, the girl swipes her hand over her forehead, bringing it down into two fists, her thumbs touching. That must be the sign for "Remember". I just watch her go.

After she leaves, the tears begin flowing freely. What is happening? Is she saying remember how good Rory is? Or is she trying to say I'm a good person? That's ridiculous. If the past few weeks have proved anything it is that I am not a good person. Foster was an actual good person and what did I do? I took advantage of his good nature to win these stupid Games.

Why on Earth are people like Cinna and this Avox girl acting like I am a good person? They tell me to remember the Games. They want me to look back with no regrets. All I want is to just forget about all of this.

I lie back down. In my line of sight I can see my crown resting on the dresser. I stare at it until my vision blurs. Finally, that cold, hollow feeling returns and I can no longer feel anything.


	26. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 26

The train ride back to District 12 feels longer somehow, more quiet. I watch the blur of scenery pass by as I recline in a window seat with my feet propped up in front of me. 

I fidget, sliding my arm out of the sling and rubbing my palms against my knees. If Peeta or Effie saw me do this they would go ballistic. Peeta would worry about my hands while Effie would claim I was ruining my look. 

I hear footsteps behind me. I look back to see Haymitch. I greet him but he doesn’t say anything, just shuffles in with his hands in his pockets. He looks almost nervous. 

“How you feeling?” He finally asks. 

“Fine,” I say. He raises an eyebrow so I shrug and add, “Nervous.” 

“I’ll never forget my Homecoming,” Haymitch says, joining me in the window seat. I drop my legs so he has room to sit. 

“My family was there and my ma planted a big, wet kiss on my cheek right on live TV.” Haymitch hesitates, then adds, “Your family was there too. Your grandparents and your ma.”

“Oh, right. They would have been there.” I murmur uncomfortably.

“My Games were different,” Haymitch pauses, struggling over his words. “There were twice as many tributes that year. There were four of us from home, including your aunt.”

He gestures to the Mockingjay pin. I cannot believe Haymitch is talking about this. I try not to let my surprise show. 

“She was my ally during the Games.”

I nod mutely. My father mentioned that before but never went into detail. 

“We stuck together for most of it. There was so many of us and the Games were so long...and the arena. That arena was like nothing I’d ever seen before.” 

I want to ask more about the arena but I keep quiet, letting Haymitch speak what he wants to say.

“Maysilee and I split up near the end. She was only gone a minute when…” Haymitch clears his throat. “I was with her when she died.” 

Haymitch looks out the window with a thousand yard stare. “It was like looking at a ghost, seeing your ma there on the platform. She glared at me the whole time.” 

“My mother doesn’t like you very much,” I admit.

“Yeah, she wouldn’t.” Haymitch smiles without humor. “One day, she stopped by Victor’s Village and went off at me. She started blaming me for Maysilee’s death. Said I should’ve stayed with her, that I should’ve protected her.”

I gasp, appalled at her behavior. “She shouldn’t have done that.” 

Haymitch scratches the back of his neck. “It was one thing to think it, you know? Think that I was responsible. But to hear those thoughts I’d had myself…hearing them from someone who looked just like her...”

“She was wrong, Haymitch.” I say firmly.

He gives me a long look as our train slows to a halt. He glances out the window and says, “We’ve stopped to refuel. Wanna take a breather?”

I agree and we exit through the back of the train. The weather is sunny if a bit windy. I expect us to hang out near the car but Haymitch walks quickly along the tracks until we stand a good distance from it. 

“What’s going on?” I ask him once he comes to a stop. 

He fidgets, looking back at the train suspiciously. “Just wanna talk to you.”

“Is something wrong?”

“You could say that,” he mutters bitterly. “I just wanna make sure you’re careful with the Capitol.”

“Why?” I ask. “Are they angry with me?”

“It’s something else,” he states. “I’m sure Effie’s been telling you how popular you are.”

“Maybe once or twice.” I tease, unable to resist poking fun of Effie’s constant praise of my popularity the past week. Haymitch looks both amused and annoyed at himself for being amused. 

“Well, she’s not wrong. Your popularity is right up there with Katniss and Peeta’s.”

“Why, though?” I ask. “I’m nothing special compared to other Victors. I’m not a star-crossed lover or anything.”

“What, you don’t see the appeal of a wealthy, good-looking girl with an engaging underdog story?”

I blink, surprised. “Well, when you put it that way...”

Haymitch nods, vindicated. “See, it’s easy to promote you to an audience. Capitol citizens wanna see themselves in tributes. So if you were to imagine yourself as someone in the districts, would it be a kid starving in the streets? Or as a wealthy mayor’s daughter?”

“Is this what Effie meant by...by ‘everything they want a Victor to be’?” I ask, cringing at the phrase.

Haymitch grimaces with me. “Yeah. But it’s more than you being a Victor the people want. Madge, you’re the Victor the government wants.” 

I feel my stomach drop. I don’t like the sound of that. “They want? How?”

Haymitch is grave as he tells me, “Because, to them, you’re an example of how a Victor should behave. You didn’t pull any rebellious stunts to win the Games. Combine that with how easy you are to market and they can promote you over the Victors they think are rebellious.”

My head is spinning as I comprehend all of this. Haymitch is warning me to be careful with the Capitol not because they want to get rid of me but because they want to _use_ me. 

I knew I would have to play nice for the Capitol but I assumed people would realize how dull or unimportant I am and move on. But if what Haymitch is saying is true, then they want me as their little mascot for how great the Games are.

Haymitch sees my anxious expression and says sympathetically, “I know. Believe me, I get it. But I think there’s a silver lining to this.”

I shoot him a skeptical look.

“I’m serious,” he insists. “Wherever we go, the Capitol is watching all of us. They never take their eyes off of me or off Katniss. But they’re not watching you as closely. They don’t expect anything from you ‘cause they don’t think you’re rebellious.”

Haymitch takes a step away and kicks at a pebble. He clears his throat and says, “Which brings me to your Victory tour.”

I start at the unexpected switch in topic. “My tour?”

“Yeah. When we go on your tour you’ll be meeting a lot of people. What if you could speak with certain people about…certain subjects.”

I am still distracted by everything he said before and I’m struggling to follow the conversation. “What are you saying, Haymitch?”

“What I’m saying, sweetheart, is that you might be the perfect person to gather some intelligence for us.”

“Intelligence?” I exclaim, surprised. “What, like you want me to spy-”

I stop, staring up at Haymitch wide-eyed. He looks back at me resolutely.

“Are you drunk?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. 

He smirks. “I wish.”

“You think I...what?” I blanch, starting to lose my composure. “There’s no way I could do that!” 

Haymitch rests a hand on my shoulder to calm me. “I think you can. It’s more than you being under the radar. You’re good with people.”

“I...I’m not good with people!” I gasp out. I start pacing back and forth. What is he talking about? I’ve always been so shy around people I don’t know. “Where did you get that idea?”

“From you, sweetheart.” Haymitch says with a smug face that annoys me. “I watched you in the Games and I saw you with your alliance. You made everyone feel comfortable with one another, you made them laugh and you got them to open up to you! You got that boy from District Eight to talk when he was upset with everyone and you got that girl from District Ten to talk about her grandma-”

“Okay, stop.” I can’t think about the Games, not right now. “Look, that’s different and...and Rory helped me with them. That doesn’t mean people just...trust me or whatever!”

I expect that to deter Haymitch but instead he gets a twinkle in his eye. “I think they might. You see, the Gamemakers were so busy wanting the Capitol to like you, they never considered that people in the districts might like you.”

A gust of wind blows past and I use the moment to collect my thoughts as I smooth down my dress. Nothing makes sense to me now and I hear myself wondering sincerely, “Why would anyone like me?”

Haymitch sighs, studying me for a moment. “Do you remember before your interview with Caesar and I said kindness wouldn't get you anywhere in the Games? Well, it turns out it gets you pretty far with the districts.” 

“Kindness?” I snap. I’m not flustered anymore. No, now I’m irate. “What show were you watching?”

“I was watching you. I watched you take care of Rory. I watched how you got along with those kids in your alliance. I saw you get people to sing and dance. Hell, you even saved that District One boy from those mutts!” 

“Yeah, and then I murdered them.” I say coldly.

Haymitch’s face is serious again as he tells me, “Death is a part of the Games, sweetheart. We’re used to it. But we’re not used to seeing kindness on the screen and that makes a greater impact with people.”

I think back to that Avox girl telling me I’m a good person. Is this what she meant? 

I shake my head. This is all too much. “Look Haymitch, I don’t like the idea of being a model for the Capitol, but this? I just don’t see how I could.” 

I drop my gaze and nervously fiddle with my sling. I feel pathetic again, just a helpless girl getting reaped into another Game. 

After a beat, Haymitch sighs loudly. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I got too ahead of myself. I was just relieved ‘cause...well, it’s obvious that Snow and the Gamemakers didn’t think you’d win and we were worried they’d be furious.”

“Why does it matter who won?” 

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you didn’t die. You see,” Haymitch pauses, thinking deeply. I watch as he makes his mind up about something. “You see, the Capitol wanted to punish us.”

“Punish us?” I ask.

“They reaped you and Rory to send a message.” Haymitch says gravely.

“What do you mean?” 

“The Capitol, they…they aren’t too pleased with us right now. I mean, with me. Or Katniss. Peeta a little too. They think we’re stepping out of line, and this is their way of cutting that off.” 

“Because of what? How are you-”

Haymitch cuts me off, looking frustrated, “It’s all these little things that they perceive as being rebellious. When Katniss offered those berries to Peeta, she threatened for the Games to lose their Victor. That pissed them off.” 

“What? They don’t think Katniss-”

“That’s exactly what they think,” Haymitch cuts me off again. “So they take her best friend’s brother and they put him in the Games. Rory was reaped to hurt Katniss. As a warning of what the Capitol can do to Gale or Primrose.”

I recall the way Katniss had attempted to search the bowls during the reaping but the Peacekeepers had stood in her way. Afterwards, she had seemed so bitter to everyone on the train. Then she was arguing with Haymitch…

“Why was I reaped then?” I ask, feeling tense. “Was it because of my father?”

Haymitch says nothing, avoiding my eyes.

“I mean,” I continue anxiously, “I’m friends with Katniss, obviously, and Peeta too. We have been for years. But I don’t think I’m someone who could be a punishment to them. Not as much as...”

Haymitch shifts awkwardly, catching my attention. “Haymitch? What is it?” 

“You were reaped because of me.” 

I gape at him, shocked. “What?” 

“You were reaped to prove that the Capitol can still hurt me. To prove that even though they took everything from me, they can always take more.”

Haymitch is looking anywhere but at me, staring down at his feet. 

“After my Games, they took all I had. They took my family, my girl, everything. They did it to keep me in line but I thought that that was their mistake ‘cause once you take everything from a person they have nothing left to lose. So what if I refused to do a little dance for them? What else could they do? Turns out, they can always find other ways to hurt you.”

He pauses, his breath heavy. I stare at him in stunned silence.

“I didn’t think I could handle it. I couldn’t watch her die again.” Haymitch looks back up and meets my eyes. “But you didn’t die. You’re still here. You survived.”

He gives me a sad smile and says, “Thank you for surviving Madge.”

He steps towards me, places his hands on my shoulders and kisses my forehead. Before the Games, this action might have reminded me of my father. Now it reminds me of Foster hugging me in the arena-

_Stop. Don’t think about that._

Haymitch exhales sharply and shakes his head, as if forcing himself to stop thinking too. He straightens up and steps back from me. I realize I’m holding my breath. I force myself to inhale as I hear someone call our names. 

It’s Effie, standing by the balcony rail of the train car. “Come along, you two! We’re almost finished, we need to get moving.”

“We’ll be right there,” Haymitch calls back, lifting his arm in acknowledgement. He turns back to me and hurriedly says, “I know this is a lot. I know you don’t see it but...”

Haymitch keeps talking about what my role could be but I can’t focus on what he’s saying. All of my thoughts are jumbled together. I’m struck again by the mental image of Rory as he lay dying in the arena. 

_Stop thinking about this._

But this time I can’t dismiss the thought. I think of how the Capitol forced Haymitch into these Games, how they killed Aunt Maysilee. How they let Rory die just to prove a point. I think how they wanted me to die but now they see some use they can get out of me. They want to mold me into their perfect little Victor, like clay-

Just then, my mind stops racing as one thought occurs to me with perfect clarity. I recall what Cinna said before my interview, when he said I represented bituminous coal. 

“Black coal,” I murmur aloud, interrupting Haymitch.

Haymitch pauses, “What?”

“They think they can use me like they use coal.” 

Most people don’t think much of dull, common black coal. But coal miners have to be cautious with it because it releases so much firedamp. A few wrong moves and the firedamp will explode.

Bringing the whole mine down with it. 

“Madge?” Haymitch prods. “What do you think?” 

I grin at Haymitch and tell him, “I think that sounds very interesting.”


	27. Part 3 "The Crown" Chapter 27

As the train pulls into District 12, I have to tell myself to breathe. Nostalgia hits me as I spot the buildings I walked by every day yet never paid attention to. I never thought I would see home again. Has it really only been a couple months since I left? My whole world has changed yet everything looks the same. 

I sneak a glance at Haymitch where he’s sitting, finishing a glass of bourbon. Once we were back on the train we couldn’t talk freely anymore. I didn’t mind because I needed a break after everything he told me. I slept in my room until Effie had come to check on me. She had fussed over me napping in my clothes and potentially wrinkling them. 

This homecoming outfit was designed to invoke the dress I was wearing when I was reaped but with a “Capitol feel”. It’s a knee-length periwinkle dress, with a silver metallic lace overlay, with the lace going up over my chest into cap sleeves. The Capitol lace feels as if it is crawling up my body, trying to smother me. 

Of course, a ribbon is tied around my hair, which is styled in a loose side ponytail. Effie had insisted I wear a ribbon as much as possible as it’s my “trademark”. 

Right. Just another thing the Capitol loves about me. 

Through the windows I can see the crowd waiting for us with a row of photographers up front. It is so bizarre to see Capitol citizens mixed in with everyone as their bright colors clash against the muted palette of the district.

The train stops and Effie claps as she gets us ready. When the doors open, I step onto the platform with a camera-ready smile plastered to my face and a wave of cheers greets me. Then I hear a familiar voice cry out my name.

My parents are standing there with tears in their eyes. My mother is dabbing at them with a handkerchief but she looks happier than I have seen her in years. I rush joyously into my mother’s outstretched arms. She clutches me tightly as my father wraps his arms around both of us, cocooning us.

Papa rests his forehead against mine and I feel him shaking with relief. He murmurs to me, “That’s my girl.”

We break apart, laughing in relief with one another. I look over and I see the other group of people standing with us on the platform. 

It’s the Hawthornes. Hazelle stands in the center, holding hands with Vick and Posy. Gale stands to the side, his arms crossed. Their faces are grave as they avoid facing the cameras. 

I shift nervously before hesitantly walking towards them. I think about what Haymitch said about how my mother had greeted him all those years ago. There is an awkward pause as I look at all of them, oh so keenly aware of their missing family member. 

“Hello,” I squeak out, unsure of how to handle this.

Hazelle steps towards me, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She reaches forward and clasps my good hand in hers. I blink at her in surprise, and she gives me a watery smile before patting my hand understandingly. Then she steps back to her family. It was a small gesture but somehow it meant so much. I smile at her again, grateful beyond belief, before glancing at the others. 

Posy dashes forward and gives me a quick hug before returning to her mother’s side. Vick gives me a nod in acknowledgment, not meeting my eyes. It stings but I understand if he is not ready. I look over at Gale. He stares back at me, a rictus of a scowl on his face. I don’t know what to say so I simply nod my head awkwardly. 

Peeta is saying something now, distracting the crowd. I force myself to turn away from the Hawthornes to stand beside the other Victors.

* * *

I sit out in the field, staring at the green land beyond me. I have been outside the District 12 fence before but I was always with Katniss before. Without a guide, I had no idea where to go so I just settled on a patch of grass not far from the fence.

The Capitol citizens returned home yesterday, ending their constant swarm around me. For three straight days the cameras had followed me everywhere while the crew behind them mocked how pathetic our district is. A part of me will miss Effie, though. It was nice to have someone take charge and give directions. She kept things running smoothly but now we are all left behind here to fend for ourselves.

A small, naive part of me had believed that things would get easier once I left the Capitol. But life continues to be one adjustment after the other. The biggest change is that I will be living by myself since I have to move to Victor’s Village while my parents remain in the Mayor’s House. 

My mother was distraught at the news. She begged my father to do something about it, which, of course, he couldn’t. He and I both had to calm her despite neither of us being excited about the situation either. Peeta had tried to reassure us, saying that he had been living on his own just fine and we will all still be close together. It had been a kind thought, but there had been a pained look in his eye that told me he missed his family more than he let on.

The other big change is that once my hands are healed up, I will be able to focus on my talent. It had been an easy choice to pick music and it is one of the few things I am looking forward to as a Victor. Getting to play music so much is a luxury even I could have never dreamed of. 

Of course, as a Victor, I won’t be finishing school and will never have to work. That feels odd since I grew up with Papa’s insistence I find a job once I graduated. Then again, part of his worry was based on security for me and my mother if something bad were to happen to him. Now If that happened, Mama could just live with me. Granted, it might be an awkward situation to have her live so close to Haymitch.

I haven’t spoken to Haymitch since we arrived home. He may be avoiding me and I am certainly avoiding him. Our conversation had been very emotional for us and I think it took a lot for him to open up to me like that. Once things cool down, I don’t doubt he will be seeking me out again. But I haven’t a clue what I’m going to say to him. I just don’t see how I can be the person he wants me to be. 

I hear a rustling behind me. I turn my head and see Gale walking towards me. 

“Hi,” I call out to him, surprised.

His response is a gruff, “What’re you doing out here?” 

I feel myself blush. “Oh, you know...sitting around.” 

Gale has reached me now, looming over me. “You should be careful, they’ve been turning the fence on more often.”

Gale gestures back towards the fence. I nod anxiously, my head bobbing awkwardly as I mumble, “Thanks, I will.” 

I fiddle with my sling to avoid looking up at Gale. “Are you out here to hunt?”

“Yeah,” Gale says, shuffling his feet. “But, uh, I’m glad I caught you out here. I wanted to talk to you.”

Great. I had been dreading this moment since I saw him on the train platform. Hopefully, he won’t scream at me like my mother did to Haymitch. 

I force myself to reply nonchalantly. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Gale drops down next to me, crossing his legs. I hold my breath, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t. We sit silently for a moment. It reminds me of when he came to see me after I was reaped, when he sat there quietly as he collected his thoughts. He had been so kind to me then and that was the moment I knew I was going to save...

I freeze as a wave of sadness hits me like a punch to the gut. I feel myself beginning to cry. I desperately try to hold them back. 

_Stop thinking about this._

I just need to stop. Then I won’t cry and I won’t feel this pain anymore. 

“Hey, you okay?” Gale asks. Fantastic, now Gale has seen them. My willpower gives out on me and the tears start flowing down my face.

“Whoa, hey, no need to cry.” Gale says, sounding panicked. I catch a glimpse of his alarmed face through my tears. 

“I’m sorry,” I tell him, my voice cracking. I catch myself as Gale stiffens beside me. I had meant to apologize about crying but as soon as I say it, the air is charged as we both realize what we are really talking about.

I swallow shakily. “I am...so sorry, Gale. I really wanted to...I’m sorry.”

I trail off, staring down at my knees. I hear him sigh next to me. 

“I know you are,” he says, gently. “ I heard what you said during the Games about...about helping him.”

“You can yell at me if you want to. I deserve it.”

“Whoa, what?” Gale asks. “I’m not gonna yell at you.”

“You’re not?” I ask him meekly. I immediately feel ridiculous, sounding so pitiful. I straighten my shoulders, trying to look less weak. 

Gale looks horribly uncomfortable, not that I can blame him. I feel even worse now because Gale shouldn’t have to be comforting the girl who let his brother die.

“I understand if you hate me.” 

Gale looks confused. “I don’t hate you, Madge.”

Now I’m confused. “You don’t?”

“Of course I don’t. Look, I know you did your best. In fact, that’s why I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to thank you.”

I balk as I wipe at the tears on my face. “Thank me?”

“Yeah.” Gale shifts so he’s sitting closer to me. “You were good to Rory. You took care of him and..yeah. Thanks.” Gale trails off, his face blank.

I stare at him incredulously. Even though I heard every word he said, I can’t understand this. All I can do is repeat, “Thank me?”

Gale tilts his head at me, puzzled. “Yeah...are you okay, you seem-”

“Why don’t you hate me?” I blurt out in exasperation. Gale opens his mouth to say something but I keep talking over him. “How can you...how can you not be angry with me? Why is no one mad at me? Everyone is praising me or saying I’m a good person and...and why? Can no one see how despicable I am? Why aren’t people disgusted by me?”

Gale looks startled at my outburst. Cautiously, he asks, “Why would people be disgusted by you?”

“I killed people, Gale,” I cry. “I killed those people. But the worst part, the worst part…”

I sigh, looking down at my knees as my hand clutches the grass beside me.

“The worst part is...I don’t care,” I say, my voice breaking. “I don’t feel any regret. I don’t care that I murdered people. I don’t care.” 

I’m sobbing now. 

“It was self-defense-” Gale starts to say but I shake my head.

“Foster wasn’t!”

“He stabbed you too.”

“But he wasn’t trying to kill me!” I cry again. “I slaughtered him and he might as well have given me a paper cut!”

I clutch the grass around me tighter, my sobs shaking my body.

“What does that say about me?” I ask. “What does it say about me that I could kill so easily? That I could stab my friend, someone who wasn’t even trying to kill me after all…”

I trail off, my tears overwhelming. “I don’t care…I don’t feel anything at all.” 

There is a long beat, everything quiet except my crying. Then Gale asks, “Why’d you bring me that morphling?”

I blink, startled by the question. “What?”

“When I was whipped last winter,” Gale says. “Why’d you bring morphling?”

“Well, uh, because you were hurt. Those peacekeepers had been so cruel and I thought you needed help. I mean, I know I couldn’t really help much but I wanted...to do something to help.”

I realize I’m rambling so I shut up. I wipe at my face again as Gale nods.

“Right,” Gale says, his face serious. “Because you care about people.”

Instinctively, I shake my head at him. Gale looks exasperated and like he wants to run away. He should run off. I deserve to be left alone out here. But Gale stays where he is and says, “I never, uh, I never liked townspeople.”

Gale grimaces at his obvious statement, which under normal circumstances would make me smile. He continues, “I never thought of you guys like the rest of us. It felt like y’all didn’t care what the Capitol did ‘cause it didn’t matter to you.”

Gale shifts again. “But when I saw you at the Reaping, I realized that, yeah, you are one of us. All of us are stuck out here in the districts while the Capitol plays with us.”

I feel myself nod. That explains why he had been so nice when he visited me in the Justice Building. Then, to my surprise, Gale rests his hand on my back.

“You were in an extreme situation. No one should ever have to go through what you went through,” says Gale, his voice firm. His hand is heavy but surprisingly gentle as he moves it to my shoulder.

“As for Foster,” Gale continues, “Remember, he told you he was going to help you with Rory? And then you decided that you were going to win yourself, right? Well, I think he was still helping you.”

My tears quiet as I listen to him. 

“I think he was keeping your alliance,” Gale carries on. “Remember how hurt he was by that girl from District Ten? He wanted to stay your true ally.” 

Gale hesitates before he reaches for my hand to comfort me. His fingers accidentally scratch against my brace and a quick jolt of pain races up my arm. I wonder if I will be able to do anything without the pain of the Games lingering.

He holds my hand and just like that, in my mind I’m back in the arena, laying beside Foster. For once, however, I don’t feel upset thinking about him. Instead, I remember that strange calm the two of us shared as we held each other, as if we were home again. I have been forcing myself not to think about this and I almost forgot how everything felt in that moment with Foster.

I think of Foster’s last words, about the things he never said, about not telling people how he really feels. Meanwhile, ever since I won I have been suppressing everything I feel, culminating in this flood of emotions today. 

I don’t want to feel this pain but I don’t want to ignore Foster either. So, I decide right now, in this moment, that I will always remember and try to follow Foster’s words. I might not be able to tell everyone what I’m thinking but I can start admitting things to myself. 

I look back at Gale and he still looks concerned. I find myself giving him a soft smile.

“Thank you,” I whisper. 

Gale doesn’t respond but he looks relieved I’m not still sobbing. He lets go of my hand but doesn’t leave. Instead we sit and talk together, looking out at the land beyond the district. 

Soon, I will have to return to the district and face everything that is waiting for me. The Capitol will be calling for me and I will have to face their expectations. I will have my Victory tour, where I’ll have to face the other tributes’s families. I will have to face becoming a mentor, spending time with children only to send them off to die. 

Worst of all, I will have to face myself. Face this version of me that killed, this version of me that the Capitol adores, this version of me that was never supposed to leave the arena. But maybe, through it all, I can see myself as that person people claim I am. If Gale sees that in me, maybe I can be that person.

For now, I sit comfortably with Gale and allow myself to enjoy the feeling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much for reading everyone. I've had this idea for...years actually! I don't think I ever really thought I'd publish it but because of COVID I've been working on and off and I had a stretch of time and here we are. People have asked if a sequel is planned and the answer is yes. However, my work is back on right now so it might be awhile before anything is posted. I will give you the title though: _whitedamp_. (No joke there was a crash of thunder as I typed that and now I'm wondering if this fic is haunted).
> 
> Thanks again to everyone who supported this. I thought maybe two of my friends would read this so getting feedback was really sweet and I appreciate everyone's kind words.


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